Manic Dementia
by FC4
Summary: Siena Hlaalu finds herself trapped within the Shivering Isles, and vows revenge on the DaM DoG; but is she in over her head? This is the tale of the trials and tribulations of the next God of Madness. Rated M because madness is unpredictable.
1. Chapter 1: Mysterious Isle

_**Author's Note**: This fanfic is well over a year in the making, and is also available at the Bethesda Game Studios Forums. I only own Siena Hlaalu, she is the only character I designed myself. And heck, I technically don't even own her. She is, however, the character I am playing through Shivering Isles with. Please review as every word of advice/encouragement encourages me to continue writing despite the trials and tribulations of college life. _

_Enjoy! _

**Manic Dementia**

Chapter 1: Mysterious Isle

The ship cut through the water like a knife, leaving rippling waves behind it as the wind blessed the sails. Siena Hlaalu sighed, leaning on the railing of the Imperial Merchant vessel. Her wind-bound dark blue –almost black actually- hair rustled in the sea breeze, but she moved it away from her face when it got in the way.

She had been assigned to this ship by her councilor, because the East Empire Company had been worried about their ships being attacked during the long naval voyage from Morrowind, around Black Marsh, and into Leyawiin. Of course, nothing had happened the entire voyage, which only served to further bore the young Hlaalu mercenary. She plucked at the chainmail cuirass that covered her chest, adjusting the tiny links to prevent them from pinching her skin. Of course, trying to adjust such tiny things was difficult with leather gloves, which she always found clumsy.

But an archer needed gloves to protect their arms from the backlash of the bowstring, so she tolerated it. Just as she tolerated the thick leather boots on her feet and the quiver of plain chitin arrows on her back, along with the iron bow. The only thing she wanted to wear was the laced leather pants, which hugged her thighs and hips tightly and in her opinion made her look more attractive.

But the rest was quite necessary if one wished to live in battle, so Siena put up with it.

"Must you always be so antisocial on the job?" Came a male voice behind her, and Siena turned around to see Belmyne Dreleth standing on the deck, arms folded over his ashlander robes. Unlike Siena, his hair seemed to resist the breeze; likely because of all that hair gel stuff he put in it that he had bought in Balmora. Siena did not even want to fathom what stuff was in that gel.

"I'm just bored, that's all." Siena remarked, leaning her rump on the rail as she rested her hands on it. "Am I not allowed to be?"

"No, you are not." Belmyne replied, striding forward and raising one hand to her face. "And you are not allowed to wear this thing in my presence." He proclaimed, plucking shaded rectangular spectacles from her face. He held them in front of his face as if examining them, and Siena reached out and quickly snatched them back.

"And why not?" She inquired to the blurring form in front of her, slipping the shaded lenses back on her small nose. Her ruby eyes seemed a darker red beneath those shades. Belmyne brought one finger to the bottom of the lenses and lifted them onto her forehead as he moved his face closer to hers.

"Because I prefer to see your eyes without the darker shade." He whispered before kissing her gently. Siena initially returned the gesture, but within a minute had one hand on Belmyne's chest and pushed him back.

"Not on the job, Bel." Siena scolded, but her sly smile betrayed her serious expression. "We can't afford _distraction._"

Belmyne sighed. "Very well. Perhaps you will join us and the crew for some dinner, though?" He sounded pleading, and it made Siena pity the mer.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt. It isn't formal, so it's fine that I lack a dress." She shrugged, turning to look into the waters of the Niben again. Belmyne snorted.

"I don't think I have ever seen you in a dress."

* * *

"But seriously, why would the Argonians have even thought of trying to attack this ship? You're a purposeless trade vessel of the Empire." Felas Sarandas remarked, bringing his flagon of Sajumma to his lips again.

"Exactly." Sheldon -one of the Redguard crew members- replied, pointing his finger across the table to Felas. "We are of the Empire, and the Argonians have never been pleased with Imperial expansion."

"Neither have the Dunmer." Felas snapped back. The dark-skinned agent and sailor had been at it for almost a half hour now.

"Or the Bosmer, for a matter of fact." Dredhwen interrupted, brushing back her dark blond hair as the two men looked at her. "But Valenwood is more peaceful about its displeasure."

"How would you know? You're a born and raised member of Hlaalu." Siena stated as she arrived at the dinning table below decks, still in her armor and armed. The other Hlaalu mercenaries had also remained in their armor and kept their weapons; except Belmyne, who rarely wore armor anyways. The shaded glasses remained on her face, clouding her eyes in gray lenses in the poor candlelight. It served to further darken her eyes, as well as give everyone's apparel that dark, dirty visage.

Dredhwen looked up and smiled to Siena. "That doesn't mean I don't try to keep up to date on matters of my own race."

"Glad to see you finally decided to join us." Belmyne remarked over his own mug of sajumma, resting his elbows on the table.

Siena sent him a small smile, tilting her head to one side. "I can't very well let you have ALL the fun, now can I?"

"Adda girl… Nanette, we have any more food left?" Belmyne asked, looking up to the Breton woman in blue robes who was standing by the cupboards. She turned to look at him, frowned, and began to rummage through the cupboards.

"Since when was I the servant around here?" She inquired, an undertone of anger in her voice.

"Since you were the only non-Hlaalu hired to this floating tree-stump." Felas answered, sneering. "How far are you in the Mage's Guild anyways?"

"Merely a conjurer rank, but I assure you I am not pathetic."

She received various 'oohs' and laughs for her blatant threat towards Felas as she rummaged through the cupboards. As the men continued with their merriment, Siena rose from her seat and approached the mage.

"Don't worry about it; I can find my own food."

"I'm quite sure you-" Nanette began to snap, but stopped when she turned to look at Siena, and actually registered her words. An apologetic smile crossed her face. "Sorry… I'm just so used to Dunmer being-"

"Arrogant, rude, sex-driven egotists." Siena finished for her, making Nanette lose track of her thoughts and simply nod her head. "Yeah, I get that a lot. But we aren't all like that." She stated with a simple conversational tone, rather than a defensive one. Moving around Nannette, she began to rummage through the cupboard to find something edible.

"Well that's good to hear." Nanette managed to reply, before the ship lurched and she stumbled forward, landing atop Siena on the floor. Bottles and mugs crashed to the ground along with their possessors, who quickly picked themselves up. Sheldon looked around, motioning with one hand for everyone to be quiet.

"The ship stopped." He finally announced, much to everyone's confusion.

"All hands below deck! Man the oars! We have to keep moving!" The captain barked from above them, and Sheldon rushed out to answer the orders, followed by the few other sailors in the room. The Hlaalu mercenaries exchanged worried glances before also heading onto the deck.

When they were on deck they met thick fog. What had once been dusk had become night; what had once been clear became so murky that with or without her glasses, Siena could not see past the length of her arm. The sails were lax, no wind billowing into them, and the lapping of waves upon the side of the ship had ceased. As if the entire Niben had become still.

That all changed when the ship jerked _upwards_, going skyward. The crashing of disturbed water rang out in the stillness of the night as the entire ship was thrown onto their backsides from the sudden motion.

"What in the name of Talos-" Captain Jayred's voice punctured the gloom, only to be cut off by one of his crew.

"Sir, it's land!"

"What?" Captain Jayred snapped, and rushed over towards the direction of the voice to investigate. That one motion seemed to set the entire ship off balance, as it tilted to the right and began to fall.

But apparently the joy-ride was far from over, as the ship was launched skyward again, this time accompanied by the splintering of wood. Siena soared through the air towards the still waters, flailing her arms in futile desperation. The ship overturned in the sky and crashed into the water, crushing some of the sailors instantly between sea and wood.

The water was like ice when she hit the surface, and the cold pierced into her lungs. She thrashed, trying to reach the surface, and when she did all she could hear was the screams of men as the ship sank. The sailors began to swim for the dark island that had appeared from nowhere, following a beacon of sky-blue light at the crest of the land.

Siena tried to tread water, but found those 'necessary' items to be weighing her down tremendously. As she began to sink she fumbled with the bow and arrows, finally removing them and trying to kick for the surface again.

The next time she broke the surface she heard a very different voice mix with that of distressed sailors. It was unlike any voice she had ever heard, somewhat high-pitched and sporting the most unusual accent.

"Well, that was certainly marrrvelous timing!"

If the voice had continued, she couldn't tell, since her armor began to drag her under yet again.


	2. Chapter 2: Voice of Madness

_**Author's Note**: I have several chapters that have been written a long time ago and will be posting them over time. The rate I post them is not the rate of creation of the fanfic, sadly. Please don't hesitate to review.  
_

Chapter 2: Voice of Madness

Light pierced her eyelids in a glow of light blue, and she tightened them shut to try and block out the light. It helped none, and she groaned before managing to open her eyes. The world was not blurry, but… spotted. Spotted with globes that distorted her vision. Siena blinked, realizing it was water on her glasses just as she registered the sound of water lapping at shoreline.

But she didn't feel soft sand around her. Only hard rock; smooth, hard rock. Confused, Siena picked herself up onto her elbows, and looked around. She was waist-deep in water, lying on an inclined slab of stone. Crawling forward she dragged herself fully onto dry land, and then turned over to sit down.

Her feet were bare upon the smooth, mossy stone. She'd lost her shoes while fighting to stay surfaced. She'd lost her gloves as well, and every weapon she had owned. All that remained was soaking wet leather pants, a chainmail curiass, and her shades. She shook her head, shaking the large droplets of water off her lenses and out of her hair, before setting her chin on her knees.

_What happened? We were just suddenly… tossed in the air like dolls. That sailor had said land… but that makes no sense. _Siena groaned. _I'm on a strange island and I have lost everything… Even Belmyne is gone. _Absently she stared at the water of the Niben, but she could see nothing farther than a half mile. The fog was thinner now; thin enough to allow for sunlight to pierce, but the horizon was still shrouded. As she watched the water, a piece of driftwood floated past.

_Wait… that's a body!_ Siena stood quickly, leaning over the edge of the stone slope to get a closer look. It was indeed a body floating facedown in the water. She could make out five appendages. The fifth looked like an Argonian tail. _But Argonians don't drown… do they?_

The clash of steel that interrupted her thoughts made Siena nearly jump back into the water as she turned to look towards the top of the cliff that the slope hugged. From that cliff a body fell into the water, splashing before bobbing up to the surface. Siena observed from her position, horrified.

It was one of the sailors from the merchant ship, his chest slashed open and oozing blood into the river waters. She recognized the face of the Nord, but the clothes were… different. They were a dark gray-brown and looked like they had been patched up and sewn together many times. And the shoulders were flared up in a fashion that made a mockery of noble dress.

If there had been any doubt that Siena was confused before, that was all erased now. The confusion on her face was as noticeable as the corpse bobbing in the water not far off. She slowly began to back away, creeping backwards up the slope, until her hand felt the top of the cliff.

Quickly she looked to her left to see the plateau that made up most of the island, and froze. There was simply no other reaction she could muster but paralysis. Trees with a multitude of thin trunks protruded from the rocky surface to burst into leaves of both fall and spring colors. Mushrooms of a coloration and texture she had never encountered blossomed at the base of the boulders of the island in myriad clusters. But what truly caught her attention was the stone statue at the center of the plateau.

It was… well, the oddest work of art she had ever seen. Three faces, one to each of the three sides that she could see. Maybe there was even a face on the back. She could only see half of the left and right faces, but one had a big, toothy grin, while the other was a smug, calm smile. The center was the strangest of all, for it was angry, and the mouth was opened to become a doorway from which sky-blue light radiated. All of the faces were of the same bearded man with a big nose, shallow cheeks, and wrinkled forehead.

And in front of this doorway, statue… thing were two figures; one a guardsman, the other a Khajiit. The guard had his sword sheathed, but the blood on the ground told her more than enough of the story. Siena cringed. But what choice did she have on this island?

Finally mustering the courage to approach, Siena followed the stone pathway that ran a ring around the front of the plateau. To her surprise the guard did not attack her on sight, but approached and even _greeted_ her.

"Morning ma'am. I'd advise you stay back. It isn't safe here." The guard told her, cutting right to the chase.

"Well, can I at least stay with you?" Siena asked, looking at the statue and frowning.

"Well, sure." The guard shrugged. "But I'd stay back from that door if I were you. Nothing that's gone in has come out right." He remarked, nodding his head towards the glowing gate. Siena looked back at him.

"What happened? Someone's gone in there?" She almost squeaked it out, fearing the worst.

"Yeah. There was a shipwreck reported around here yesterday and we were sent to investigate. We'd found this place. A few of the sailors we found here or floating in the water. They kept saying that the others had gone into that there gate."

_Yesterday?_ So she'd been out for almost twenty-four hours, and others had gone inside the gate. _Belmyne might have gone in there!_

"Please sir, tell me!" Siena nearly jumped at the guard, grabbing his shoulders and pleading with him. "What happened to them? Have any of them come out yet?"

The guard shrugged her off, stepping back and snapping at her while pointing at the Khajiit. "Look for yourself! Their brains are addled! Got no sense! For all I know, perfectly normal people went in there. This is what came out." Siena stared at the Khajiit, trying to remember who she was. She had to be one of the sailors or maybe one of the Trade company employees.

"You can't see me. You can't see me. Neither can He. No one can see me." The Khajiit began muttering incessantly when she was mentioned. Siena slowly walked up to her, reaching out a hand in an attempt to comfort her.

"What happened in there?" She asked softly, as if addressing a child. The Khajiit reared back, moving away from Siena and blocking her with one outstretched hand.

"No. Go away. I'm not here." She barked, and Siena took a step back, raising one eyebrow.

"What do you mean you're not here? You're right there."

"You can't see me. You can't see me. Neither can He. No one can see me. I'm not here." The Khajiit continued to mutter, cowering away from Siena. She was about to continue but thought better of it, sighed in exasperation, and turned back to the guard. She put one palm to her forehead, hoping to rub all of this away as a bad dream or a migraine induced hallucination. But she already knew it was a futile effort.

_The others went in there… Dredhwin, Belmyne, Felas… Why wouldn't they? It'd be like scouting out the area ahead. But if they ended up like her…_

_I have to find out what's going on! I have to find them! Maybe I can help them!_ She looked up again at the guard, looking more determined than before. But one could tell her closed fists were shaking with anxiety.

"I'm going in."

"Ha!" The guard laughed, pointing at her. "It's your funeral. I'm just here to warn people, not keep them out." He held his hands out at his sides, shrugging. "I'll just stay here to clean up the mess when you come out. Go ahead in."

Siena glared at the guard, then at the gate. The man's manners were certainly lacking, even by an adventurer's standards. "I feel as comforted by that knowledge as I did when I arrived." She remarked coolly at the man, only to get a smile and a tip of his helmet in return.

"Always a pleasure, ma'am."

Siena pouted at the man, looking back at the gate and choosing to ignore him if he said another word. She stepped up the small stairwell towards the glowing portal, only to have a Dunmeri figure materialize in front of her, and she quickly caught him as he fell towards the ground.

It was Belmyne! And yet… just like that Nord sailor he was wearing patchwork gray clothes, rather than his usual robes. The robes she had last seen him with. She cradled him in her lap, embracing the crouched man.

"Oh Belmyne! I was so worried. Something's terrible wrong with this-"

"I won't go back." The Dark Elf battlemage muttered at the ground. He began to shake his head wildly. "I won't go back!" He threw Siena off him as he screamed. She lay on the stone steps, mouth agape in horror and ruby eyes wide. "You can't make me go back!" Belmyne curled himself into the fetal position again, cradling his head in his hands and sobbing. He continued like this for a minute or more.

Siena closed her mouth, gulped, and crawled towards him. "Bel? Bel, it's alright. You don't have to-" She whispered, only to be cut off by the raving Dunmer.

"I'll kill you all!" He screeched, hand grasping at an iron dagger he got from Gods-knew-where and ripping it from his belt. Siena recoiled, her hand retracting like a turtle into a shell. Belmyne turned towards her, and she got the first good look at his face.

The handsome dunmer she once knew was replaced by a warped, horrific visage of the Belmyne she had loved. His eyes were wild, almost drunken or drugged. His lips were curled back in an animalistic snarl as he spat with each word.

"Stay back! This one's violent!" The guard snapped at Siena, but she didn't need to be told twice as the perversion of Belmyne leaped at her.

"You're all going to die!" He spat, the iron dagger lashing out at Siena. A Bravil guardsman shield blocked it as the guard rushed in front of her, silver longsword bared and already stained with blood. The guard spun to his right, exposing his back only briefly to Belmyne.

The lunatic tried to take advantage of the opening, but by the time the dagger was dislodged from the shield it was too late. The silver blade severed skin and muscle at Belmyne's waist, sending blood onto the ground and Siena. The guard ripped the blade violently from the body, before sheathing it. Without hesitation he picked up the corpse and carried to the edge of the cliff.

"Belmyne!" Siena managed a broken, sobbing cry as she reached out for the body, just before the guard dropped it into the river. Her hand retreated back to her chest as she cuddled herself against the wall.

His blood… Belmyne's blood. It was all over her, sticky and warm. He'd been changed by whatever lay beyond that gate. She had lost him long before the guard had killed him. "Belmyne." She whispered softly, closing her eyes.

"Unworthy, unworthy, **unworthy!** Useless mortal meat. Walking bag of dung!" Someone exclaimed. It took a moment for Siena to register that voice; it sounded familiar. A somewhat high-pitched voice with an inexplicable accent, drawling at some words and screeching at others. She began to uncurl herself, looking slowly around. Her watery eyes locked with the guard's.

"Did you hear that?" She gave no response. "Did you?" Siena shook her head gently, still looking near tears. The guard rolled his eyes. "Voices from nowhere, madmen… Where does it end? How did I end up with this posting?" He moaned.

"A nice effort though." The voice remarked almost politely. Siena began to look around again, uncurling her legs from her chest. "Shame he's dead." There was an echoing sigh. In fact, the voice seemed to echo itself, just a millisecond after it spoke. "These things happen."

Siena knew what he was talking about, and narrowed her eyes. The voice was obviously male, and whoever spoke was rude and cold. Her _lover_ had just died, and the voice just shrugs it off as nothing? She began to look around for the source of the voice, her eyes glancing over Belmyne's dagger. With a face of stone she reached for it, wrapping her hand around the hilt of the blade.

"Voices from nowhere again… I don't get paid enough." The guard remarked, and to Siena it was almost as equally cold and heartless as the voice's remark. But she had already vowed to herself to ignore him.

"Bbbbring me a Ccchampion! Rrrend the flesh of my foes! A mortal champion, to wade through the entrails_, of my enemies!_" As the voice roared out its demands, Siena looked up at the three faces. She couldn't help but think that was the origin of the voice. Her grip on the dagger tightened.

"Really, do come in." The voice spoke up again, changing from the previous rage to a calm, courteous tone. "It's lovely in the Isles right now. Perfect time for a visit." Uncontrollably, one of Siena's eyebrows rose questioningly. Something was definitely wrong about this voice, this gate, this _place._ She turned to look over her shoulder at the guard, who was standing there anxiously. Inhaling, she turned back to the gate.

_Whoever you are… you killed Belmyne. You killed his mind! I am going to stop you from doing the same to the others, and make you pay!_ She thought, before stepping into the light. Even with shades on, the light was blinding, engulfing her. And then, it was gone, replaced by darkness. She could see only a faint dot of light, candlelight. Her shaded glasses made it harder to see in the dark room.

"Let's be civil, shall we?" A voice pierced the darkness, making her turn her head towards the candlelight. This voice was not the same as the other. This one sounded Bretonic, snobbish and noble. And bored.

"Please, sheathe your blade and have a seat." Something dark moved, motioning towards the candle. What could she do, except walk towards it?


	3. Chapter 3: Stomach Full of Butterflies

_**Author's Note**: This was my favorite chapter to write, mainly because of Haskill's 'lovely' demeanor. :D  
_

Chapter 3: Stomach Full of Butterflies

Siena strode forward, removing her shaded spectacles as she came. Now she could see brighter, but not clearer. But the important thing was that she could see. She placed the arm of her glasses into the links of the chest of her cuirass, as her wet feet padded on smooth stone. She was still dripping wet. Once she approached the candle, she could see a little better.

It was a stone room, and sported only a stone table with two chairs. One was empty, the other occupied. Occupied by a bald Breton man wearing unusual clothing. It had a red collar-piece and black cloth, flared shoulders and skin tight waist. A medallion of a metal she was uncertain of hung around his neck. She couldn't see the color of his eyes –she could barely see his face minus the nose- but they were squinted anyways. The man moved, placing his fingers together in front of him.

"Please do sit down, and we can carry on. Just set the dagger on the table." He said absently, and Siena absently responded, finally releasing her vice grip on the dagger and dropping it to the table. It landed beside a tome, the Madness of Pelagius. Somehow, Siena felt that tome belonged there. Hesitantly, she sat down. For a moment there was silence, and it was then she could hear ticking.

On her left was a pyramid with a stick attached at the bottom; a metronome. That wrinkled-forehead-and-bearded face was carved into the metronome stone. Unconsciously, she was watching the metronome with her ruby eyes.

"What can I do for you?" The Breton finally asked, sounding almost forced. "I imagine you are here about the door?"

Siena broke her gaze from the metronome with difficulty, and looked at the man for a moment. Then his question registered as her mind caught up with the world. "Um, yes… that strange door I went through." She looked back to see the light blue portal was actually still there, too.

"Yes. You have entered and now you are here. Amazing." The Breton remarked, his fingers still held together in front of him. He had one leg propped on the knee of the other. "Truly."

Siena snapped her head back to the man, narrowing her eyes at him. That had to have been the driest sarcasm she had ever heard in all her life; and she heard plenty of sarcasm. "Who the hell are you, anyways?" She snapped.

The Breton man seemed unaffected by her outburst, as he simply placed one hand on his chest. "I am Haskill, Chamberlain to the Lord Sheogorath."

"Sheogorath?" Siena repeated, gulping.

"Did I stutter?" Haskill inquired, but Siena ignored it. _Sheogorath…. One of the __Four Corners__ of the House of Troubles. _

"So this is?" Siena asked, motioning at the room.

Haskill nodded curtly. "Yes, you are approaching the Shivering Isles. Through the door behind me lies the realm of Sheogorath, Prince of Madness, Lord of the Never-There."

"Never-There?" Siena repeated, eyes moving back to the bright portal behind her. "Why is that door there? The island just… appeared out of nowhere… why?"

Haskill sighed, as if the answer was obvious. "Because my Lord wills it to be so. It poses no threat to Mundus." Siena's eyes narrowed.

"It destroyed a trade ship." Her words were smoothly cold and curt.

"Ah yes, well, that was an untimely accident." Haskill explained, putting his hands on his crossed knees. "I assure you that otherwise, the Door is harmless; no compact has been violated. It is merely a doorway, an invitation. Perhaps you will accept it for what it is."

An invitation into a realm of one of the Four Corners? "Why am I being invited?"

Haskill didn't skip a beat with his answer; it seemed like the man had an answer for everything. "You? I do not know. My Lord seeks a mortal to act as His Champion."

"Why would He need a mortal for a champion?" Siena interjected, the question coming from her mouth the moment she thought of it. Why would a Daedric Prince need a mortal for anything other than a plaything?

"To attempt to fathom His intent is a foolish endeavor." Haskill replied smoothly. "His will is His own; His reality follows suit. You are here because you chose to enter; you were not summoned."

Siena let out a 'hmph' at this, taking his words with a grain of salt. Maybe she was just crazy, but the voice certainly sounded like it was summoning her, beckoning her in. Beckoning her to find her comrades. Siena nearly leaped forward out of the chair as she hurriedly asked her next question, making Haskill move his head back in retreat.

"The people who came in here! The people out there! What of them?" Siena cried out her question. Haskill was silent, until Siena sat back down.

"They entered this realm, and were ill prepared." He replied as if nothing had happened. "Their minds are now the property of my Lord." His remark was so calm, so unemotional.

"Minds are not property; they cannot be bought or sold." Siena hissed between her teeth. Her eyes flickered briefly to the blurry form of the dagger on the table. She felt a desire within her to bury it in this man's chest. Cut open his rib cage and see just how black that heart truly was. But she held back. He had information. Maybe he knew how to help them, so more of her comrades did not end up like Belmyne.

"But property is not exclusive to product." Haskill replied, his mannerism only furthering Siena's anger.

"How can I cure them?" Siena demanded, her voice rising in pitch. That dagger was looking all the more inviting.

"Cure?" Haskill returned, raising one eyebrow quizzically. "You speak as if they are diseased. They live now in another state of being." Haskill tilted his head to the left just so, furthering that aristocratic stuck-up visage. "Perhaps it is you who needs a cure."

Siena grit her teeth, and held the sides of the chair with white knuckles, staring at the ticking metronome as she tried to garner control. Her ruby eyes followed the stick as it swayed left and right, wondering what that strange letter-like thing on the top was. It looked like a Daedric symbol, but one she was not familiar with. Watching it had an odd affect on her, as each time that metronome seemed to take longer to swing from left to right, and right to left. And each time, she felt her anger wane.

"Perhaps indeed." Haskill remarked with an undertone of disgust as he watched the Dunmeri girl, snapping her back to reality. Embarrassed, she brushed back a strand of her soaked dark-blue hair that had fallen into her face unnoticed. For a moment her mind was blank of all thought, but then she finally came up with something.

"What happens now?" Her voice was softer, a sharp contrast to her anger a moment ago.

Haskill shrugged. "You do as you will. You may leave the way you entered." He motioned towards the portal with his hand. A casual, can't-be-bothered wave. "You're life will be none the worse for your time spent here. Or-" Haskill pointed to the stone door behind him. "-you may continue onward, through the door behind me." He put his hands in his lap. "If you can pass the Gates of Madness, perhaps the Lord Sheogorath will find a use for you."

Siena did not find this pleasuring in the slightest, the idea of becoming some puppet to this Lord of Madness. "And if I go through the door?"

"Who is to say? There are always choices to be made. The Realm of Madness is no different in that regard." Haskill told her. "Your choices are your own. Enter or not, but make your decision." Haskill's voice became irritated, the third emotion she had so far heard from him alongside sarcasm and disgust. "I've other duties to which I must attend. Speak with me again when you made up your mind."

"The anticipation is almost too much to bear." His voice dripped of immense sarcasm, and she could imagine he had rolled his eyes. _Sometimes these bad eyes are a pain._

She looked at the dagger on the table as she thought about her decision. Something about that dagger; it felt like a focal point of her goals, the reason she was even making this choice in her mind. Indeed it was. She did not know its origin, but it had once been held by Belmyne, and now it would be held by her.

Things had gone terribly wrong, spiraled out of control. If she had remained above decks, if she hadn't gone down to the dinner, she could have seen it coming, could have warned the crew beforehand. If she hadn't blacked out for twenty-four hours, she could have held them back, resisted and prevented Belmyne and the others from ever entering this hellish Realm of the Outer Worlds. If only…

_No, Father always told me to not dwell in the past, but to thrive in the present and decipher the future. I can't fix what happened before, but I have to find a way to recover what was lost. Belmyne may never come back… But I may still be able to save the others. _

_And give this God a piece of my mind, even if it kills __me._ Siena looked back up to Haskill, her mouth taunt with determination. Haskill gave her a glance of faked interest. "Well? Have you made up your mind? The tension is almost palpable."

She shrugged off his cynical remark with remarkable ease. "I'll do it."

"Fine." Haskill replied simply, sounding almost… displeased? Maybe her lack of reaction to his taunt had gotten under his skin. Siena's lip curled with delight. She'd managed to best him. "I'm sure my Lord will be most pleased, assuming you ever manage to see Him. You'll want to pass through the Gates of Madness." Haskill rose from his seat, turned stiffly, and walked towards the stone door.

Siena expected him to open it up, but instead he turned to look at her, almost as if he had forgotten something. "Oh, and mind the Gatekeeper. He dislikes strangers to the Realm. Enjoy your stay." That single courteous statement sounded so bland, so insincere, that it failed to serve its welcoming purpose completely. Turning back to the door, Haskill continued to walk, and went right through it.

Almost as if it were never there. Siena caught her breath in surprise, fright gripping her. What was this? He never said-

The walls began to squirm, rippling and moving as if alive, and Siena screamed. Throwing her hands over her head she closed her eyes, but rather than hear something, she heard nothing. Opening them again, she found a swarm of butterflies fluttering around her, their wings a shade of blue not unlike her own skin. She watched them in wonder, before they began to leave, flying off on their own or in groups into the distance.

Leaving nothing but Siena; a stone desk with a book, metronome, and dagger; Haskill's empty seat; the candlestick, and the rug everything stood upon; atop a slab of marble. The walls were gone. The darkness was gone. And a blurry world of washed-out colors greeted her eyes.


	4. Chapter 4: On the Fringe of Madness

Chapter 4: On the Fringe of Madness 

Hastily Siena fumbled at her chain-mailed chest, groping for the spectacles she had hung from the chain links and slipping them onto her face. The world took on a shaded hue, but it also took on a sharp clarity now. She was awestruck by what she saw.

The world was remarkably colorful and vibrant. The sky was a beautiful shade of blue, dotted with odd sparkling cloud formations. She could swear she heard birds chirping in the distance as she looked around.

Some distance to her left was a tall stone wall with sloped roofs, running parallel to the horizon. Looking back, the portal was still shimmering with life behind her. Mocking her with the option of return. Something told her returning to Tamriel was not an option any longer, and she then remembered she was in a Daedric Realm, which startled her into rising from her seat.

This looked nothing like any Daedric Realm she could have imaged, especially for a God of the Mad. It actually reminded her more of home than anything else. Five large trees grew around her plateau, but unlike trees they had no leaves. Their branches were bare, and cradled the underside of a mushroom as they grew before curling over the edge of the fungus and defying gravity, shooting upwards. It was very different from the mushrooms of home, true, but they struck a cord with Siena nonetheless. The fungal like pods growing at the base of one of the trees did not, though. They were like large Kwama eggs glowing a soft blue, and Siena found herself sickened by them. She half expected a Kwama forger to squirm out and spit acid at her.

But she wasn't here to sightsee. Snatching up the dagger from the table, she stopped when she saw out of the corner of her eye that the metronome had stopped. Curious, she tapped the stick with the dagger's tip. It began again, but then stopped. Frowning, Siena ignored it and went around the table, walking down the hilly slope. To each side of her were pillars of granite, or maybe marble, overgrown with vines and crumbling. More mushroom trees dotted the land around her in large and small sizes, demanding her attention but getting none of it. The path turned to her right, and the pillars followed suit, as if guiding her down this strange road.

There was a giant mushroom tree further down the path, by far the largest tree she had ever seen. Its trunk wasn't even a single body, but multiple root-like trunks that bended upwards from the ground to meet as one, and then rise into the air before blossoming into a mushroom umbrella. Siena gazed at it as she walked down the path, marveling at the sheer size.

But she stopped abruptly when she heard an unfamiliar sound. It was like a growling cat, but with a watery quality to it; like the cat in question was drowning or something. Crouching low, she carefully placed one bare foot in front of the other, flipping her dagger in her hand to hold it in reverse. Approaching a fallen section of pillar and peaking over, she narrowed her eyes through her shades.

It was a goblin. _No, wait… What is that thing?_ It looked similar to a goblin, and yet was definitely not one. The creature's torso was too thick and flabby to be a goblin, and it stood on legs that were double-jointed like the beastfolk of home. And it had two rows of three spines growing progressively longer as they went up the back. The only real relation was the sickly green color of its skin, which was darker on the creature's back than the chest. She couldn't see the thing's face in detail from here, but she imagined it was hideous. Rough metal gleamed in its hand, and a body lay in the pool of water where the goblin-thing stood.

_Dang it… If only I had my bow! I'll have to find a way around. _Siena wasn't fond of close combat. She preferred archery, despite the protests of her teachers concerning her imperfect vision. It allowed her to fight her enemies from afar, get to know them better before she had to get up close and personal. Analyzing her options she saw an opening between a Mushroom trunk-root and a boulder. She could go through there, around the boulder ahead, and to the other side back onto the path. Should be simple, right?

Looking back over the pillar, the thing had its back to her. Taking her chance she dashed across the road, feet padding softly and chainmail clinking. It was likely the clinking that did her in, as a growl reminding her once more of a cat underwater rose behind her. Siena couldn't even bring herself to turn around and look. She just knew it was after her.

There was a gray vine growing around the tree trunk, and she grabbed it, jumping up and hanging onto that handhold. Knowing it wasn't going to get her onto the tree she had jumped sideways, her legs swinging towards the nearby boulder. Kicking off that and sending her upside down she flipped onto the tree trunk, stabbing the dagger into the wood to anchor herself in place.

Only then did she look back towards the beast, to see it at the base of the tree, growling at her. The thing had nightmarishly pale eyes that lacked any sort of pupil she could recognize. Rows of thin, sharp teeth with no lips to cover them snapped at Siena from that smooth face with only two hog-like nostrils for a nose.

Her mind uncontrollably envisioned a fat goblin body with a slaughterfish mouth and Orc's face, and it was the best comparison she could ever hope to create. The fish-man shook a rough iron dagger –which looked more like a toothed spear tip with a leather handle than any sort of smith-fashioned blade, and was etched with odd symbols on the sides- up at her, muttering in that strange noise it made. It took immense effort to draw her eyes away from the monster and to the surroundings, looking for escape.

_The large boulder! I can't go around it now, but maybe I can go over it and find a path._ She prayed to Azura that her hopes would be true. She would have prayed to Vivec, or maybe Almalexia; but in the waxing years of the Third Era their religious prominence had died in Morrowind, replaced by the worship of the Ancestor Daedra. The Good ones.

And if Sheogorath had spawned this hideousness, she had one more reason to agree with the Temple placing him in the House of Troubles. Because he was giving her a crap load of trouble to deal with now. Ripping the iron dagger from the tree, she braced herself as she slid down towards the eagerly awaiting beast.

It wouldn't get its meal just yet, though, as she leaned forward and kicked off the tree, rolling atop the boulder to a chorus of unintelligible beast-curses. Smirking, she proceeded to run across the stone.

Only to have something bang into her leg, knocking her off balance. Crashing into the pool of clear water, she tightened her grip on the dagger and fumbled to get onto her hands and knees.

Yet again, her glasses were wet. _There are times where I wished I didn't need these._ The creature was blotchy and bulbous in her vision, but as a badly aimed stone splashed into the water close to her head, the answer to what knocked her off the boulder came; a primitive beast's lucky shot.

Snarling, the green-hide charged at her, growing larger in her water-distorted field of view. She reflexively thrust out her left arm, grabbing the oncoming arm holding the spear-point dagger. The strength of the beast forced her down from her awkward kneeling posture and her head went under water as it overshadowed her.

Panicking, she stabbed at the thing's side, feeling her dagger slip between ribs and enter flesh. The monster weakened and she rolled atop it quickly, gasping for air as she submerged it in the pool and held it down with her weight. She still gripped the arm holding the dagger, keeping it away from her. The beast stilled.

That's when she noticed the wound in its side had stopped bleeding, the cloud of blood in the water having dissipated. The fish-man gurgled under the water, its large nostrils flaring. The thing was breathing!

Crying out in a mixture of frustration, fear, and instinctive panic Siena began to stab wildly at the wrestling monster, even forcing it to stab itself with her iron grip on its arm. She was no longer caring where she stabbed, or how bad the wound became, she was just stabbing and slashing and stabbing. Finally the beast fell still once more, and Siena quit her efforts, panting.

Its own dagger jutted from the hideous skull, the three fingers still wrapped around the hilt. Hers was dripping blood into the pond as she held it pulled back, ready to stab again. The bleeding didn't stop, the creature didn't move, and after a few minutes of holding this position, Siena rose from the corpse, shaking the blood off her dagger in the water first. She didn't even look at the other body, but did note it had the underbelly of a slaughterfish; _with four legs._

"This is ridiculous." She muttered in exhaustion, shaking her head sharply. Water droplets rained around her, getting at least some off her glasses so she could see better. If this was going to be a regular occurrence, she'd have to find a handkerchief somewhere. If there even was a 'somewhere' that would have handkerchiefs in this deranged landscape of freakish beauty, of course.

She found out a small while later, though, that there was indeed a civilization in this Realm. She passed ruins that reminded her of those Ayleid structures she had seen on the shore when they were nearing Leyawiin's waters. These weren't quite the same, though they were equally overgrown by plant life. One was a square tomb-like building, and had a statue of a creature she had never seen before on one side. It resembled a Daedroth, one of Molag Bal's servants, and yet it did not, lacking that long and toothy snout. She shuddered as she realized it was more closely related to the beast she had just wrestled and moved on.

The other was a tall tower of stone with no discernable entrance or real décor, so she ignored it as well. But when she saw the stone archway in the distance with a wooden stairwell running up the side, she grinned widely and raced towards it. As she passed under it she made out two figures, one of them Redguard and the other Dunmer. All too eager, she rushed over to them. When she was next to them she stopped, resting her hands on her knees and panting.

"Hello!" The Redguard spoke up. The sound of his voice made Siena jolt her head up in surprise, and her eyes widened.

"Sheldon!" Hope radiating from her face she turned to the dunmer, her joy only rising. "Felas!" She pressed her left hand to her chest and exhaled, regaining control of her over-excited state. "Oh I am so glad to see you two. We have to find the others and leave here."

"Leave? Are you kidding? I've been here the longest! That's why I'm mayor of Passwall. That, and because I am the best at being in charge." He spread his hands towards the measly assemblage of three stone shacks. "Welcome to my town!"

Siena was stunned into silence, and looked over to Felas pleadingly, her mouth agape as if about to argue. Felas stared at her for a moment and then stepped back, holding up his hands to protect himself. "Don't breathe on me."

It was then that she noticed their new apparel. They both wore a thick cloth vest over their chests with a feathery shirt underneath. Studs dotted the suit nearly everywhere and straps held a waistcoat tightly around them. It looked almost like a pathetic attempt at armor.

Couple the attire with their responses, and Siena knew deep in her heart it was hopeless, sinking to her knees and silently sobbing.


	5. Chapter 5: Keeper of the Gates

Chapter 5: Keeper of The Gates

Sheldon and Felas knelt next to the crying form of Siena, her shoulders heaving as she cried. Felas hesitantly reached out a hand, but then pulled it back. Sheldon instead placed his hand on Siena. "What's wrong?"

"Wha-what's wrong?" Siena snapped through her tears, looking up to glare at Sheldon. "You've all gone insane! The mayor of Passwall… how could you be a mayor of a town in less than twenty four hours?"

"Well, the place was pretty deserted when I got here." Sheldon admitted, shrugging. "Of course, once I was here others followed. Can't say I blame them."

"Of course you can't blame them!" Siena raised her voice at the Redguard, causing him to back away. "They came into the portal just like you did!"

"I find it to be a nice place. Less dirty than others." Felas remarked, causing Siena to turn her wrath upon him. "The old man, in the room made out of butterflies, he said to wait here."

Siena stopped, unable to think of a nasty comment. Instead she blinked, her anger fading into simple inquiry. "Wait for what?" Felas simply shrugged.

"I think we are supposed to wait for the Gatekeeper to allow us through." Sheldon remarked, and Siena found herself turning her head back to him.

"Through what?"

"The Gates of Madness." Sheldon replied as if he were talking about the sunny weather.

"One leads to the lands of Mania, and one to Dementia. The Gatekeeper makes sure no one gets in who isn't supposed to." Felas explained, folding his arms over his chest.

"The Gatekeeper?" Siena asked again, looking about as confused as when she had first set eyes upon the island portal.

Sheldon nodded. "He guards the Gates of Madness. They say the keys are sewn up in the Gatekeeper's body." Siena cringed at this, wondering what perversion was required to accomplish such a task. "Basically, that means you're not getting in."

"So… the Gatekeeper guards the Gates of Madness, which is the only way out of here?" Siena questioned, looking dazed.

"Yeah, he's pretty scary isn't he?" Felas asked, looking at Sheldon.

"Yeah. Come see for yourself, he's about to destroy a party of adventurers." Together Felas and Sheldon took off down the path with more gusto and excitement than Siena felt was truly appropriate. But what could she do except follow? She was stuck in this world, so far as she knew, and the Gates of Madness were the only escape she knew of. So she ran after them warily, her feet moving from cobblestone road to marble staircase and back again, as she brought herself up through four flights of stairs onto a small valley between two walls of stone. Before her lay a large wall with twin arches almost as tall as the tree she had seen on her way to Passwall. The architecture reminded her distinctly of Imperial battlements in Morrowind. Between the arches was a giant bust of a man, looking remarkably like the doorframe that led into this wretched realm, only with a closed mouth. He looked like he had the collar of a suit not unlike Sheldon and Fela's on his shoulders. From beneath the giant archways came two curving stairwells that ended in a plaza of marble.

And that plaza was the scene of a bloodbath like no other. Siena stood between Felas and Sheldon as an Orc in iron armor charged forward. "Stay back! Leave the Gatekeeper to us!" The Orc had snarled, but Siena had lost him in the sheer horror of what she saw.

It wasn't man. It wasn't beast. It wasn't even a Daedra recorded by mortal hands. It was… a behemoth of flesh. It had no face, at least none she could discern from this distance. It had to be almost ten times the size of the men it faced in battle now, obscenely large feet stomping down the comparatively miniscule steps as it charged. It didn't roar, didn't snarl, but gave more of a deathly groan, deep, loud, and throaty.

Chains connected to a cast iron choker on the monstrosity clanked as it landed on the stone plaza, its big toe crushing the steel-clad Argonian's foot. Two leather belts as wide as Siena were wrapped around its waist above a steel codpiece she was thankful was there. She might have puked if she saw the organs beneath that metal. A Nord with a steel claymore charged forward, sinking his blade into the leg of the Gatekeeper.

Siena couldn't see the wound inflicted from here, but she didn't see any blood, and that worried her. Reaching down with its massive left hand, the assortment of flesh batted the Nord away with the iron bracer it wore. Like swatting a fly, the Nord clattered to the stone a yard away and did not get up. That same left hand moved to grab the Argonian who had been crippled. Lifting the lizard from the ground effortlessly as the others futilely smashed at its shins, its fleshy fingers wrapped around her ever tighter.

Siena had to close her eyes and plug her ears to drown out the scream of agony, and kept her eyes closed when another cry rose shortly after.

"Oh no. They're bleeding all over the place!" Her eyes sprung open as Felas said this and she straightened to stare at him. Who was this man who looked like Felas? He was holding his hand to his mouth and… Giggling!

"They should have listened to me." Sheldon said haughtily. Siena looked between the both of them in disbelief, before clenching her fists and cuffing the both of them in the head.

"They are dying and all you do is watch?" She cried out as both men rubbed the backs of their heads, glaring at her.

"Well yeah." Sheldon snapped back, not flinching under Siena's harsh gaze beneath her shades. "Jayred Ice-Veins wants to kill it, but that sounds like suicide to me."

"The Gatekeeper looks indestructible." Felas affirmed, nodding towards the scene. Siena watched, as the last of the adventurers was cut vertically into two halves by a man-sized toothed sword. As his two sections fell to the ground, the Orc from before ran past them.

"He's too much! Killed all my men! Get out of my way!" The Orc stammered, shoving Siena out of the way and into Felas, who hastily pushed her away and began brushing off his suit.

But Siena could not take her eyes off the scene. She had only just realized the blade that had dealt the fatal blow was not held in a hand; it _was_ the hand! From the right elbow down there was only iron, molded into a viciously serrated sword.

"Yuck. Look at all the blood and gore! I'm getting out of here." Felas remarked, and quickly removed himself from the premises.

"They should have listened to me." Sheldon sighed, shaking his head. Then he nodded to Siena. "Don't get to close to him, or he'll kill you. And leave a mess in my town like they did." Without another word Sheldon followed Felas, leaving Siena staring at his back like he had grown spikes along his spine.

Lower lip quivering, she turned to look back at the scene. Blood was smeared like confetti upon the right steps, at the base of which the massive fleshy thing stood. Shredded steal and gore decorated the ground. If Siena had eaten in the last day, she would have puked it up. Shuddering, she took a step forward, uncertain why. But her eyes were trained on the faceless giant in the distance in front of her.

When she felt her bare foot touch cold stone, the face of flesh turned to look at her with eyes that did not exist. She could see now that crimson red symbols were etched on its brow, and in various places on its body. Lines of red weaved around the Gatekeeper's body, a quilt of badly sewn together flesh. A low, rumbling groan emanated from the Gatekeeper, which lumbered toward her.

Siena screamed and fled, fear gripping her heart tighter than at any other time in her life. She stumbled down the stairs in a rush, hearing the impossibly heavy footfall of the Gatekeeper behind her.

On the second steps she fell, rolling to the base to look up and see the wicked sword coming towards her. "Ahhhh!" She rolled to her right, and felt the earth rumble beside her as bits of stone and dirt fell from the air. She wanted to lay there and catch her breath, but as the horror groaned she knew she had to move. Getting to her knees she crawled away desperately, feeling leathery skin brush against her wet leg as the hand closed around thin air behind her. Scrambling to her feet she ran with renewed energy.

The Gatekeeper took one step forward, and she knew it was already upon her again. Biting her lip she forced herself to concentrate as she leaped off the top of the third set of steps and into the air, arms spread as if she were flying. A whoosh of air informed her of how close to a skewering she had been.

She brought her arms over her head and bent her elbows, bracing herself for impact. Her hands hit the ground first, pain flaring in her wrists as they absorbed the shock and she rolled onto her back, getting to her feet at a crouch.

Her breath caught in her throat when she expected the thing to slash at her now, destroying every attempt she had made to survive. But nothing came. In a daze from the adrenaline rush Siena turned to see the Gatekeeper staring at her with that empty face, before it turned around and lumbered up the steps once more.

Trembling childishly, Siena looked at where she was; she had leaped over the third and fourth set of steps, getting back to the road to Passwall. A shaking hand brushed back her dark blue hair from the side of her face as she looked warily up the steps from beneath her shades. It had… stopped. It did not chase her past those steps. She was shocked into a stupor, unable to say or even think anything.

And then she heard a grumbling, and leaped to her feet. Her iron dagger shook in her hand as she looked around her to find nothing attacking. The grumble came again, and she looked down.

It was her stomach.

Sighing, Siena inhaled deeply, closing her eyes before exhaling. She continued these deep breathes for half an hour until her heart had calmed, and then sheathed her dagger. Opening her eyes again, she placed her hands on her lean stomach.

"I need to eat…" She moaned, turning to the small town of Passwall. _Jayred Ice-Veins wants to kill it. Jayred… wasn't that the ship captain? _Siena thought as she approached the Wastrel's Purse. _Maybe I should find him when I am done eating._ She knew one thing was certain. If she were to get through the Gates and find a way to help her friends, she would have to kill the Gatekeeper and get the keys from its flesh.

But as she came to the door of the Inn, she shuddered at the image of the Gatekeeper amongst all that gore. She forced herself to forget the image for the sake of her appetite.

It may be that the real reason she would have to kill the Gatekeeper would be in order to eat and sleep properly again. And that was more powerful an enforcer than helping her friends.


	6. Chapter 6: Mother of Monstrosities

Chapter 6: Mother of Monstrosities 

Siena opened the door to the Wastrel's Purse as the sun began to dip in the sky. As her feet touched the floor she became distinctly aware once more that she was barefoot. The Inn floor was damp and mossy, like it had not been cleaned for some time and felt chilling on the soles of her feet. She shuddered as she saw the innkeeper; a bosmeri female hunched over behind the counter, arms dangling. She wore a tan robe with a soft blue vest over her chest. Siena adjusted her glasses on her face and worriedly approached, tapping the counter and hoping in the back of her mind that this woman was not who she thought it was.

As the elf groggily raised her head to look at Siena, the dunmer's heart dropped. It was Dredhwen, with bags under her eyes. She looked so exhausted; it almost made Siena feel energized. "Dredhwen… what happened to you?" Siena asked and the woman shrugged back.

"I… don't know." Dredhwen replied slowly, yawning. Her voice and tone were so sluggish it almost put Siena to sleep listening to her talk. "I got here to find the inn empty, and the town too… Sheldon was the only one living here, so I took over the Inn. Sheldon says he's mayor." She yawned again, and the sudden urge to do the same washed over Siena, but she fought it back. "Don't believe him. The people who used to live here left plenty of things behind though. Do you need anything?"

Siena frowned, watching Dredhwen slowly droop as she awaited Siena's answer. She prodded the elf awake once she had decided.

"I have no money, but I need food, some shoes-" She wiggled her toes on the damp floor and cringed. "-and a bow and arrows."

Dredhwen seemed to be considering the situation, until Siena realized the woman was stooping lower with each passing moment, and prodded her again with an angry finger. The woman jumped awake and spoke slowly again, as if in a dream. "Wha? Huh? Oh, yes… Well, money isn't really an issue here in Passwall; I mean, all my inventory I got for free. No one should be barefoot, or without a home and food. You may have the first room upstairs, and some food from the table. And some old boots. There should be a pair in the chest upstairs. Anything else?" She asked.

"A bow and arrows?" Siena reminded the Bosmer. Dredhwen frowned, the action making her face look more tired than usual.

"I have a bow, and arrows too… but those are mine and I do not wish to give them away. I'm sorry." Siena grit her teeth at this. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Siena replied quickly this time, not wanting Dredhwen to start dozing off again. "Yes, actually. Jayred Ice-Veins, where is he?"

Dredhwen looked at Siena through narrowed, tired eyes before she answered. "He's a little south of the town, before the ruins. Why would you want to find him?" She inquired.

"I need to kill the Gatekeeper and get through the Gates of Madness." Siena answered, moving away from the counter to the small table in the room, and picking up a piece of surprisingly fresh bread. She already knew what she wanted from Dredhwen, so she wasn't going to sit by the counter and withhold herself from eating any longer.

"The Gates of Madness." Dredhwen repeated, looking at the countertop airily. "I feel like I need to be on the other side. I'm just not sure how to get in."

"I'd imagine killing the Gatekeeper would work." Siena replied with a shrug, biting her bread and chewing on it. She was consciously trying NOT to think about the Gatekeeper. Not with food in the area, not with a chance to eat and sleep so close.

"But the Gatekeeper kills anyone who comes near… anyone except Relmyna Verenim. She's staying upstairs right now." Siena perked up at this, blinking at the elf behind the counter. She forced herself to swallow her bread before speaking.

"What did you say?" But Dredhwen was already bowed over and asleep again. Siena frowned, looking at the bread, and then at the stairs to the rooms. Up there was a woman whom the Gatekeeper did not attack. And a bed, and boots. Siena wolfed down the bread before rising.

The first room was the one Dredhwen had given her, so Siena entered it first. Like the rest of the inn it was musty and moldy, with a dank bed and stained furniture. There was a chest there, and when she cracked it open a cloud of dust came out to greet her, forcing her into a coughing fit. She waved the air clear before reopening it and shifting through the stuff inside. There were clothes and something that might have been a leather glove. When she finally found the shoes, she cringed. They were decrepit examples of footwear, damp and putrid, with threads missing in places. She tossed them back in, deciding to risk stepping in Goblin-fish-man shit rather than put her feet in _that_.

And Relmyna was in the next room, according to Dredhwen. A woman whom the Gatekeeper would not kill. But why would the Gatekeeper spare her? Siena's curiosity took over as she moved into the small hallway and approached the second door, knocking on it. No one answered, so Siena grabbed the rusted handle and slowly cracked the door open. There was a desk, with a bottle of wine, a cup, a bowl, a scroll and…

A hand scythe, spots of blood, and a skull. Siena gulped, shaking as she looked at the empty sockets of the skull's eyes. Could one of her past friends be staring back now? She shook the thought from her mind and opened the door further. What she saw made her recoil and grab at her chest with one hand in an attempt to steady her heart. There was a bloodied shovel leaning on the wall, and a mutilated corpse in the corner, blood pooling on the floor. She didn't even want to look behind the door to see what horrors awaited behind it on the fourth wall. Instead she looked at the scroll on the table.

Just as her hand hovered over the paper, a voice made her jump into the air and land on the musty bed with a yelp. "Well, what have we here?" The voice came from a middle-aged Dunmer woman in a puffy, gold-embroidered black dress with flared sleeves and a low cut v-neck. The dress was beautiful, though she had never seen anything of its kind back home. She stared at the woman as she sat up in the bed, dazed.

"Another hopeful whose blessing has not fully taken root?" The woman -who had to be Relmyna- asked, stepping into the room and putting one hand towards the table as she regarded Siena with cold red eyes. "No… I don't think so. You're an adventurer?" When Siena didn't answer, the Dunmer sneered. "How disgusting. Why don't you come back the way you came?"

Siena stared at the woman as she picked up the scroll and calmly slipped it into the pocket of her dress, looking at Siena again with distaste. "Well… um… I can't." Siena replied, pulling her legs under her; away from the woman. "Are you… Relmyna Verenim?"

"Yes, I am. What do you want?" She snapped back, obviously agitated by her new intruder. Siena recoiled again, feeling a threatening air from the woman. Her hand subconsciously went to the dagger at her hip.

"I want to know about the Gates of Madness and the Gatekeeper." She said defiantly, as if testing the woman's threat. Her hand came closer to the dagger as Relmyna gave her a look that sent shivers down her spine. It was a look of morbid interest.

"The Gates of Madness? One leads to Mania, and one to Dementia. Two shades of madness." Relmyna explained, telling Siena what she already knew by now. "_You're_ not getting in because you're not Blessed by Sheogorath. You can try to get the keys; my Lord had them sewn into my child's body." She sounded almost proud of this statement, which only made Siena more uncomfortable about what the statement meant.

"I wonder if you're a fast bleeder, or a slow bleeder." Relmyna added as if in afterthought. Her face had taken on a dreamy glaze, making Siena wonder just what the woman was thinking about. Siena shuffled backwards on the bed into the wall.

"You're child?" Siena repeated, her voice shaky. Could this woman be serious?

"Yes. The Gatekeeper is my child; the consummation of Sheogorath's wisdom in the womb of my genius. It was a painful and bloody birth, but well worth it. His brothers were less... successful." She fell silent for a moment, folding her arms beneath her breasts. "He won't bother those blessed by Lord Sheogorath. You, however, will die trying to get the keys from my child." Relmyna pointed out, and Siena felt challenge in her voice.

Siena shuddered as she thought of this woman giving birth the natural way to a thing like the Gatekeeper. No, it had to be necromancy that birthed it, nothing else would make sense. Necromancy; that foul art that perverts the bodies of holy ancestors and turns them against their successors, their family. That atrocity was her child. It explained why it would not kill her, alright, but did little to help Siena kill it.

"I have to kill it." Siena muttered, forcing herself to stare back at Relmyna defiantly. Killing it was the only way to save her friends… if there were any left to be saved.

"Try him if you like." Relmyna remarked coolly, as if she had no worries in the world. "Believe me, after you die, I can put your flesh and bones to very good use."

This was the last straw; this woman disgusted Siena to the core, and she was through with speaking to such a devil. She came off the bed and drew her dagger in one smooth motion, her stance firm and threatening. She narrowed her eyes beneath her shaded lenses as she took another step forward, and Relmyna raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"I _will_ find a way." Siena snarled, her anger rising. "I will not become one of your unholy children!"

"I am bored with you." Relmyna's response was so insanely off kilter with the emotions in the air that Siena found her anger near boiling as a result. That hideous perversion of virtue was bored with her? "Why don't you go talk to Nanette? She likes talking. I'll need to cure her of that habit soon enough." Siena was caught off guard at the mention of Nanette, her face becoming blank wonder.

"Nanette?" _Could Nanette possibly be-?_

"There's one sure way to stop a tongue from flapping; cut it out. Shall I demonstrate?" Relmyna asked, moving with ominous slowness towards her table, and the hand scythe resting on it. Siena tightened her grip on the iron dagger and got the message quickly. This woman was clearly out of her mind, and violent. If she was Redoran she likely would have stayed to defend her honor from the insults of the necromancer, but Hlaalu lacked that reputation for reckless fighting in the name of a reputation. They defended their honor another way.

Siena hastily made her way out of the inn, ignoring the soft earth beneath her feet and the hunger in her belly as she moved through the small town of Passwall. The dagger was still caught in her grip, her hand unwilling to release the weapon, which had become a source of control for her during the encounter.

There was no way Siena could have gleaned any more useful information from the woman. There was also no chance in Oblivion that she would be sleeping in that inn. With Relmyna a wall away from her performing her profane magicks and wanting to use Siena's body for her experiments, and the Gatekeeper's horrific image still burning in her mind, she would not be able to get to sleep from the nervous fear that would grip her. She had to find somewhere else to sleep. Coming up to a small wrecked dock, Siena flopped down and looked at her reflection in the small pool of water beneath her. Where could she possibly sleep?

Well… there was Jayred. She already had a reason to visit him, so maybe she could sleep at his place? Unless… unless he was as out of his mind as the others. _But what choice do I have, really? I can't very well sleep out here, and I am NOT sleeping with Relmyna in the same building._ Reluctantly rising to her feet, Siena headed south of the town, and quickly made out a small building on stilts in the distance.


	7. Chapter 7: Skeleton of a Nightmare

**Author's Note: **These next few chapters deviate a little from the actual plot in order to further the character of Siena, and Jayred as well.

Chapter 7: Skeleton of a Nightmare

The house was a small shack, raised above the swampy marsh on thick stilts. It stood before the trunk-roots of one of those alien mushroom trees, which was as large as two of the shack. Siena looked at the home for a moment before approaching the stairs leading to the door.

She simply stared up at the door, a tarnished metallic colored piece with rust spots and bars over the small round window. Three awnings spread over the door, getting longer the higher up they sat on the door frame. Their triangular design seemed to point away from the door, as if pointing her away from the home.

It was a subtle sign from her sanity and reason, to turn now and leave.

But she had learned, in her day of being in the Fringe of this unholy realm, that she had not the option of obeying her reason. Logic was nothing in this realm of chaos. She could only plod along until she met Sheogorath himself.

And then, she'd take matters into her own hands. For now, Jayred was her only option. She placed one bare foot upon the wooden step and climbed, reaching the door. Raising one hand, she knocked softly on the door.

Light spilled out into the darkness of the night when the Nord opened the door, and if not for her shaded glasses she would have been momentarily blinded. She did a double-take when she finally could focus on the captain of the merchant vessel that stood before her. The Nord was in fur armor, and had a bow and quiver of arrows. _I didn't know…. Wait… he can't shoot!_

"Yes?" Jayred asked, knocking Siena from her thoughts. She shook her head to clear her mind and then replied.

"Jayred Ice-Veins?"

"YES?" The Nord seemed more aggravated now than before. Siena would have to tread lightly. _What will he more likely allow me inside for?_

"I want to talk to you… about the Gatekeeper."

The Nord's demeanor melted into warm welcome, as he stepped aside to allow her through with a smile. Siena returned the smile weakly, only to stop in her tracks as Jayred closed the door. Her breath caught in her throat and she gulped it down to ensure it got in her lungs as she shuddered.

His home was a small shack of two floors, the first of which was centered by a fireplace. Two bookshelves and two tables –one larger than the other- made up the furnishings. The larger table had a bench as well and was to the left of the stone fireplace. The bookshelves were to the right, along with a small circular table. One bookshelf was by the entryway, the other by the small table and near a cupboard.

She didn't mind the furnishings so much as what decorated the furnishings. As Jayred moved to the large table and sat on the bench, looking at her expectantly, Siena moved against her will towards one such decoration on the floor.

It was shaped like a head of the dragons of legends, but it was definitely not a dragon skull. Leather straps as thick as her pinkie finger held together femurs, tibia, claw/finger bones, and even pelvic bone sections. The pieces of bones had been mended together into a puzzle or sculpture-like skull structure. Siena knelt and looked closer at the skull-assemblage. Shuddering, she got to her feet and looked around the room.

At least five of those skull-patchworks were on the ground in this room alone, who knew how many in his bedroom. One leaned on a chest in the entryway she had not noted before. Another by the large table; two more by the cupboard.

But they were not the only bones. Skulls, pelvises, femurs, ribcages, littered everywhere; resting in bowls on the shelves, sitting next to potion bottles. Piled up next to the large table, they even covered the large table along with a pickaxe and bottles of alcoholic beverage. Siena became keenly aware she was surrounded by bones, and instinctively wrapped her arms around herself, biting her lower lip as she looked to Jayred.

"Do you ever wonder why things look better without their skin on?" Jayred asked without prompting, and Siena shuddered, fearing the worst; he'd be like Relmyna.

"For instance, you can only really see the bones, when you take them out. You can hear them better that way, too." He explained, and Siena shook her head vigorously.

Inhaling, Siena removed her arms from around herself, exhaling and placing them firmly at her sides. "Listen, all I want to do is get through the Gates of Madness."

"The Gates of Madness? So do I. I can hear them… calling to me from the other side. We have to kill the Gatekeeper! He has the keys." Jayred announced. Why did everyone think she didn't know this? Why did they always have to bring it up and make bile rise in her throat?

"I want him dead. I need him dead! His bones are calling to me!" Jayred seemed to get really worked up about this and rose from the bench, pointing at Siena. "Rumor has it you want the Gatekeeper dead too."

_Wow… rumor travels fast here._ Siena thought, reeling back from the bone-whisperer ex-captain. She hadn't announced her decision to kill the Gatekeeper until recently and by then Jayred should have been in his home. So how did he-?

"If you're good with a lockpick, we can help each other out." Siena perked up at this, eyes sharp. She was a Hlaalu mercenary scout; she better be good with a lockpick, or she was out of a profession. "We can get into the Gardens of Flesh and Bone."

Siena's alertness became nervousness as she bit her lip again. _Why? Why the Gardens of **Flesh and Bone?** What is wrong with a garden of mushrooms and marshmerrow?_ She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and opened them again, pushing away her nervousness.

"The gardens… of… flesh… and bone?" She asked slowly, praying with futility she had heard him wrong the first time. Jayred nodded.

"They say the Gatekeeper's magical. I don't believe in magic. But I do believe in bones. And the best way to kill something is with the bones of its own." Siena cringed. She didn't like where this was going.

"I can see the bones of a dead Gatekeeper in the courtyard of the Gardens. The door's locked though. You'll pick that lock, and I'll collect the bones. Then I'll make some arrows, and we'll kill the Gatekeeper. Sound good?"

All of it sounded wonderful. The picking of the lock, the killing of the Gatekeeper. The only thing she didn't agree with was the bones. Against her will, her head nodded. But her mouth opened a moment later.

"Not right now though, Captain Jayred. I… need rest first. And some boots." She told him, not thinking when she called him Captain. The Nord paused, casting her a skeptical glance.

"Captain?" He asked, and Siena nodded again.

"Yeah, you were captain of a merchant vessel, remember?" The Nord shook his head, frowning. "What do you remember?"

"I remember coming here. I followed the bones, and they lead me here. I moved in. No one seemed to mind. Everyone seems to be waiting for something." Jayred informed her, shrugging.

_Can't imagine why they would have to wait for Sheogorath's Blessing. I'd say they already have it._ Siena thought.

"But I have some boots on the shelf here." He changed the subject, moving past her to some boots lying beside two long, purplish things. Siena followed behind him, looking at the things

She was suddenly reminded of tongues and nearly puked up the bread she had just eaten. Jayred handed her the boots, clueless as to why she was clutching her chest and facing away from the shelf.

She took the boots gratefully. "Where might I sleep?"

"There's a bed upstairs. I'll sleep down here with the bones." He told her, pointing briefly at the wooden planks above them and smiling softly. Siena couldn't help but return the smile, as she had not expected the modesty from the insane Nordic sailor. It was… touching, considering everyone else had been so far violent or gruesome towards her.

Her heart ached as she was reminded of Belmyne. He was always so loving towards her. Always so gentle, his caresses and his kisses feather-light and yet strong and powerful. If he had been alive right now, here with her, he would be laughing at Jayred, at Sheldon and Felas. He would have stood between Relmyna and her, magic flashing at his fingertips in anger at her threats towards Siena.

If he were still alive…. She wouldn't be here.

A tear rolled down her cheek, and that cold line on her face made her realize where she was and what she was doing. Quickly she thanked Jayred and headed upstairs, only stopping when she was at the top of the steps. There she removed her glasses and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, setting the lenses on top of the dresser.

She saw two of the skull-creations sitting beside the dresser, and her back straightened, muscles tensing. _Ignore them, __Siena__. Just forget they are even there. It's just a skull… it can't hurt you._ She told herself, hands firmly at her sides as she closed her eyes and calmed herself.

The feeling of her damp pants on her hands made her wonder as to the state of the clothes in this dresser. She pulled it open, to discover déjà vu and shut it just as quickly. Then she looked at the bed.

It was somewhat musty, and old and rickety, but at least there was a Nord obsessed with bones -and not with cutting out her tongue- nearby. Siena wasn't really sure which was worse.

Shaking slightly, she lifted her chain mail cuirass from her body, not caring that she was in her bra and tight pants now. She had a feeling Jayred was too modest to look. Tossing her armor with a clink onto the floor she collapsed into the bed, the day's exertions having taken their toll. She was more exhausted than she thought, and even with two skull-things nearby she was quick to fall asleep.


	8. Chapter 8: Flesh of a Nightmare

Chapter 8: Flesh of a Nightmare 

_They'll never find me here… it's perfect!_ Siena thought to herself, hiding behind an urn. All around her were dim shadows and soft candlelight, as they cast their glow upon the stone walls and dirt floors of the crypt. Even torches could not pierce the gloom. The young dunmer's skin was still that dark gray shade of youth, and would not brighten to a blue-gray tinge until she was of age, so she blended in perfectly. That and her small frame hid behind the urn easily.

Minutes passed, and then more minutes passed, and still they had not come for her. _I can't be hiding THAT well… where are they?_ Siena wondered, and crept out from behind the urn. No one was around.

Getting to her feet cautiously, she moved towards the door. "Helrin? Mincy?" She could hear creaking on the other side, and a rushing of air soft as a breeze. Frowning, she opened the door just a crack.

On the other side of the door stood a skeleton, air rushing between the gleaming teeth in soft whispers. Its shoulders rose and fell in a futile attempt to mimic the breathing it had performed in life, the ribcage expanding and contracting. Hollow eye sockets looked through the crack in the door at Siena, and her breath caught in her throat. Somehow, it was looking at her without eyes. She barely understood what she was looking at, but her gut told her it was unnatural and evil.

The skeleton stepped towards the door, that one motion causing its leather-fastened bones to creak loudly. The movement also revealed the glint of a steel axe in the torchlight. It was going to kill her!

Siena slammed the door shut, forgoing stealth. Now she WANTED to be found –by someone, anyone, just to save her from that thing! The young Dunmer ran through the burial room, reaching the other door and jerking it open before rushing through into the hall beyond. She came to a halt and looked to her left and right. Which way was it to get out? She had come in through the door the skeleton was now smashing with the axe. She'd have to find another way. Right was in the general direction of where she had come from, so maybe it would get her out.

Decision made, she bolted down the hallway, the air currents of her fast movement causing the torches on the wall to flicker and almost die. It only served to further her fear. She continued running, not looking back to see if the skeletal monster followed.

Without even thinking, she ran down the steps and further down the hall. Only when she came to a dead end with three doors did she realize where she had gone. Down, and not up. Deeper in, and not out.

_One of these doors has to lead out! It has to!_ Her thoughts were frantic now, any logic she might have had at her young age being lost to fear and the need to survive. She grabbed the door to her right and flung it open.

It led into an empty chamber, with an ash pit before the wall and bones within the ash. She shut the door as quickly as she had opened it, and whirled around to face the left door, opening it as well.

While a similar chamber, this room contained something. A man, in dark clothes that looked almost like exquisitely flared thin leather armor, was crouched on the ground, holding his head in his hands and sobbing. Siena froze in place, curiosity wrestling with her fear and leaving her indecisive. Was he lost, like her? Was he scared, like her? Siena took a step forward, warily testing her grounds.

"I won't go back." The man muttered, and Siena felt a distinct wave of déjà vu wash over her. She had heard that before; that voice, those words. Something about them instilled fear in her heart. "I won't go back!" Siena took a step back, clasping her hands in front of her chest.

Unexpectedly she felt cool metal on her hands, and two rounded, firm mounds on either side of her hands too. Then she looked at herself.

She was no longer the dark little dunmer, but a full-grown blue-gray mer in a chainmail cuirass. "You can't make me go back!" The man screamed, and Siena looked up, childish fear still in her eyes as she recognized the man and his words. The man had fallen silent now, and was raising his head to look at Siena, wildness in his eyes and an iron dagger in his hand.

"I'll kill you all!" The man lunged forward, but Siena was quicker, slamming the door and throwing her back on it. There was a loud thud and then silence. Until there was creaking.

Siena wasted no time in opening the third door, stepping through the threshold, and slamming it shut. But she wasn't in a tomb in Vvardenfell anymore. She was standing before a structure akin to an Imperial marble wall, with two massive arches leading to doors shrouded in darkness. A bust of a man stood between the arches. And before the stairwell leading up to those arches were two figures.

One was a giant mangled mess of yellowed flesh and red muscle, clad in iron shackles and missing one arm, which was replaced by a massive iron-cast sword. No eyes looked towards her, but she knew the direction of that stare.

The other was a Dunmeri woman in a royally adorned black dress that flared around her in a dome style, and was lined with gold. Blood red hair was done up in a tight bun that topped her sneering face, as she held a hand scythe before her.

The large flesh-construct strode forward, moving with deadly intent towards her. Freaking out, Siena sharply turned to the door and tried to open it, only to find it locked. She screamed as she turned around to watch the horrific thing come even closer with another step.

"There's one sure way to stop a tongue from flapping. Cut it out…" said the woman, as she tapped the flat of the scythe blade on the palm of her hand. The massive creature of roughly assembled flesh raised its right arm as if the sorceress' words had been an order. Siena continued to scream as the large iron blade came down.

"Its bones are calling to me."

Siena was denied the satisfaction of actually dying as she was ripped from her nightmare, eyes popping open and springing into a sitting position in the bed.

Well, almost a sitting position. She ended up bumping into Jayred, who had been leaning over her. Her head fell almost naturally into the crook of his neck and she wrapped her arms around him instinctively as she began to cry. She needed someone to hold, someone to hold her, as she recovered from that horrid dream. Jayred seemed caught off guard by her actions, and hesitantly held the topless elf in his thick-furred arms.

"We have to kill the Gatekeeper." Jayred whispered, as if it was the only thing on his mind. Unless he was referring to her dream, but how would he know the Gatekeeper nearly killed her within her own nightmare? Siena nodded, biting her lip and pulling away from Jayred to look at the Nord.

"Alright, we'll do it." She told him, though she looked reluctant to say so. The Nord nodded and rose from the bed. He was behaving with such normalcy and informality, as if he did not even notice that Siena's small bosom was covered by merely a bra. Was he being chivalrous, or had insanity wiped away that part of his mind?

Regardless, Siena WAS embarrassed to be in such a state of undress before the husky Nord. She plucked the chainmail cuirass from the floor, slipping it over her body and finding comfort in the familiar cool feeling of the metal on her skin. The dresser was blurry from her position on the bed, but she walked over to it anyways. It got sharper as she approached, and now she could see her shaded glasses laying there. She slipped them on, the world becoming clearer in an instant. The dagger and furred boots were the final pieces of her current wardrobe, and then she headed downstairs to see Jayred again.

"You open the gate, I'll kill things." Jayred told her, and Siena smiled softly, reflexively reaching for her boots and the lockpicks hidden within. She was startled to feel only the fur lining of her new boots, before memory returned to her. She had lost everything in the crash. Her lockpicks were gone.

"I don't have any lockpicks." She muttered with mixed emotion. It meant they could not get in the Gardens of Flesh and Bone to get arrows to kill the Gatekeeper. But, it also meant they could not get into the Gardens of Flesh and Bone.

"Here. Take this lockpick." Jayred handed her one, which she reluctantly took from him. Perhaps her reluctance was the reason her hand remained holding his and the lockpick for more than a minute before Jayred released it. "Careful, though; it's my only one." He told her, and then moved towards the door.

"The sun rises soon. We must hurry." He told her as he opened the door. Siena nodded, but remained standing in the entryway for a short time, holding that lockpick to her chest; trying to find the courage to follow.

Finally, when Jayred was a yard or so from the door and still walking, she closed her eyes, inhaled, and dashed out of the house into the early morning air, the chill biting into her arms and torso. But the fur boots kept her feet warm, at least.

* * *

**Author's Note: **To any who were confused by the nightmare opening sequence, and got lost, that was my intention. It was meant to be portrayed and understood from Siena's view, and there will be several more instances throughout the story where reality and Siena's reality mix intentionally. If, however, you have any advice on how to manage such a 'Death of a Salesman'-esque style, I will love to hear it.


	9. Chapter 9: Gardens of Flesh and Bone

Chapter 9: Gardens of Flesh and Bone 

The stone walls loomed over Siena as she looked upon them, standing at the foot of a stairwell that wound around a statue. They were dark gray in the dimness of pre-dawn, and mossy, like the gardener had not taken care of them for some time.

If there even was a gardener for such a horrific place, of course. Siena moved up the broken stairs, coming to the landing and turning to the right, towards the garden proper. To either side of the next set of stairs were statues of demonic things. Thin and lanky with long fingers and tails and a mouth like a leech, she recognized these beasts from the teachings of the Temple. Hungers, minions of Boethiah, one of the Good Deadra. But it did not make his sinuous and lanky beasts any more appealing in Siena's eyes. Especially since the statues were in a land of Sheogorath.

Jayred was already at the gate, standing there and looking through the bars. Siena approached the gate, which was ornamented with curving lines of metal in smooth, peaceful patterns. She could see through the bars as well, and what she saw made her gasp.

It was a ruin of pillars and steps, of ornate carvings and brazier-lit statues. She could see on the far side a tall staircase, two more hunger statues bordering it. The right statue had a brazier lit, the other, had none. There was a tower of stone -like the two she had seen before arriving in Passwall- to the left and nothing else she could make out in the gloom and shading of her glasses. But nothing like the Garden of Flesh and Bone she had imagined, and that made her heart beat just a little slower.

"Hurry, I need to get in." Jayred told her in a rushed tone. Siena sighed, her shoulders dropping, before bending down in front of the gate and sticking her ear close as the lockpick went in. _It's so easy a Nord could open… well… maybe a Nord couldn't._ Siena thought as the pick clicked the tumbler into place, and the gate opened. It was one of the easiest locks she had ever encountered, and she slipped the pick into her boot without even thinking. Putting her fingers delicately into the grating, she pulled the gate towards her. It creaked and groaned as it moved.

Jayred bolted through the opening like a thing possessed, and Siena yelled after his fur-armored back. "Wait, there might be-!"

Jayred knocked an arrow on his bow and snarled, as Siena heard that familiar hissing clack of a skeleton angered. The Nord fired a shot from his position as Siena rushed into the Gardens.

The place was one large, dark courtyard, with a second flight of stairs to the right of the stairs she had seen from the gate. And in the center of it all Jayred stood over a large skeleton. He growled again as a second arrow flew at a skeleton charging at the Nord. The arrow hit the ribcage and bounced around before falling to the ground, making the skeleton stop but doing little else.

Despite her shaded lenses making the world darker than it already was, Siena could make out a second skeleton charging at Jayred's left flank. And despite the fear gripping at her heart, a greater power drove her to spring into the air from the top of the steps and crash into the skeleton. She fell on top of the bag of bones with a painful crunch, both of them crashing to the ground and the steel war axe the skeleton held flying into the dirt nearby.

The skeleton was falling apart, some of the bones having been freed by the crash, but it still squirmed and thrashed grotesquely beneath her. A hard object hit the side of her head, dazing her and causing her to roll off the skeleton. The undead horror rose from the ground and picked up the axe with its left arm -it's only good arm- before raising it over Siena.

Survival instincts surged through her mind, and she threw up both her hands, summoning the magic within her into the only spell she truly knew well. Fire belched from her fingers to bloom inside the skeleton's ribcage, blasting it apart. Bones rained down around her, clinking off her chainmail and bruising her already tender arms, just before the axe spun down and dug into the dirt mere inches from her face.

Siena shuddered as her eyes wavered towards the axe nearby. She seemed to have lost all resolve to do anything, fear turning her muscles to stone, until she heard Jayred growl and a skeleton hiss in anger. Siena rolled towards the axe, one hand grabbing it and the motion of her body rising jerked the weapon from the dirt.

An arrow spun end-over-end to her left, having bounced off the hard bones of the skeleton Jayred was fighting. Siena watched as in the span of an instant Jayred knocked another arrow, fired, and hit the eye socket, ripping the skull from the spine. The Nord kicked the decapitated bones away, sending them shattering to the ground before standing proudly over the rotted corpse of a giant.

Siena walked up to him, relief washing over her as she stood at the feet of the massive skeleton. The ribcage alone could fit her body if she curled up inside it. Red flesh still clung to it and a horrid smell tickled her senses. If it was daylight the flies would have been buzzing with skooma-induced delight. With the danger gone Siena could no longer override her disgust and she dropped the axe, doubling over. Her only meal in the Shivering Isles became a new delightful feast for the flies when they awoke at dawn. Jayred did not seem to notice as he reached down and grabbed the skeleton's arm, not caring for the grime on his hands as he twisted and sickeningly crunched the arm out of the shoulder socket.

Siena watched with a horrid fascination. That a man who had been so courteous and gentlemanly to her would be doing such a disgusting-

Her thoughts were interrupted when a sharp sting in her left shoulder made her cry out and grasp at the perpetrator. It was an iron arrow that had hit her chainmail, but had been unable to penetrate the metal rings with its large arrowhead. The sting had been from the tip piercing shallowly into her skin. She ripped out the arrow with a trickling of blood, noting many of the small rings in the mail were broken; a small hole, but still a hole.

When she looked up her mind instantly calculated the archer's location from the direction of the arrow when it had stuck out of her shoulder, and she could barely make out the thin, gray form through her dark lenses. Snarling, she wanted to move but her stomach protested; it simply would not let her sprint after having expended its contents. She clutched at her shoulder and stomach as the skeleton knocked another arrow and pulled it back. The movement made it easier to see for a moment, and she threw out her hand, letting go of her shoulder to fling a ball of fire at the thing.

The flames lit the area as it traveled across the courtyard, towards the small corner nestled between the two staircases that had been in front and to the right of her when she had come in. _So stupid! I didn't make sure the place was clear! I forgot half the area!_

The fireball burst behind the skeleton, having missed it, but the light the explosion afforded revealed to Siena just where he was. The second arrow did not hit her this time; she'd seen it coming as it went past her spellfire. She moved to one side in a half-crouch, magic coursing through her hand and sparking into fiery brilliance. Jayred had knocked another arrow and uselessly fired, the arrow bouncing off the bones. Siena swung her hand forward, extending her fingers as if reaching out to the skeleton.

Reaching out to the source of her fear, of her pain, of her anger and of her sickness.

Like a resolution the fireball burned through the air to blast apart that skeletal archer, bones raining down upon the ground. Siena breathed heavily, chest heaving as she fell to one knee. She felt so tired; a fatigue caused by a combination of bruising crashes and bumps, a bleeding shoulder, inadequate sleep and an expenditure of magic. She had drained herself so much in her anger with that final spell. Worse, she knew her magicka would not restore itself on its own, and her loss of control might cost her later on now that she had little magicka left for spells. But she rarely used her magic anyways, since she knew so little and her birthsign was so restrictive.

Bones snapped and ligaments tore, prompting Siena to turn her head and look at Jayred, mouth agape in exhaustion. Some of her hair that had come loose in the fighting fell over her face, but she ignored it as again a horrid fascination overtook her.

Jayred broke the humerus from the rest of the arm, then took the ulna and radius and tied all three of them together with a string. She didn't want to know where he got the string from. He then moved to one of the legs and picked up the axe Siena had dropped. Hacking at the knee cap, he separated the femur from the rest of the leg and ripped it from the pelvis in a brutish fashion. He added the femur to his bone collection and slung them over his shoulder.

"With these Gatekeeper bones, I can make some arrows." The Nord told her, as if proud of himself. Siena simply smiled weakly.

"When will they be ready?" She feigned enthusiasm, her voice falsely sweet.

"I'll only be a few hours." Jayred told her, waving his hand nonchalantly. "Then we'll kill the Gatekeeper." Jayred smiled warmly back before turning and walking out of the Gardens with his bones.

Leaving Siena completely alone, in a dark courtyard with a half-present skeleton of the most loathsome being she had ever seen, and surrounded by pieces of other skeletons. For a moment she simply gawked at his back as he proceeded up the steps and through the gate, but then pouted.

_To be expected, really. All he cared about was the damn bones. Nice and all… but he's insane and more in love with bones than a cup of mead. That's not right._ Her opinion of the captain seemed to drop in that one moment from attractive to not-so-much. But thinking of him kept the realization of where she was out of her mind.

_I need that bow… Dredhwen won't give me hers so I'll have to use that one. I can't shoot bone arrows to kill the Gatekeeper without a bow._ Siena thought, moving purposely over to the scattered remains of the skeleton archer. She picked up the rusted iron bow, pulling the string taunt and then relaxing it before shrugging. Could have been better, but a rusted bow was better than no bow at all really. Grabbing the quiver of iron arrows from the ground she slung it over her shoulder and walked out of the Gardens with a pace that neared running.

She made sure to close the gate behind her, and never look back as she walked hurriedly down the hill after Jayred, the world brightening as dawn neared.


	10. Chapter 10: Kill the Gatekeeper

Chapter 10: Kill the Gatekeeper

"I'll only be a few hours." Jayred had told her, and yet those few hours seemed like eternity to the Dunmeri mercenary. She had to find something to do during those hours of early morning. She was too frightened to enter the inn, lest she encounter the crazed necromancer Relmyna again. And it wasn't like she really needed anything from there; well, minus food, but that she found by rummaging through a barrel near the door while Drewdhen was rocking in place in sleepy stupor.

Siena felt sort of… guilty inside for stealing from her old friend and comrade, but she had to take it. And it wasn't technically stealing seeing as Drewdhen had practically given her the last meal for free anyways. So she managed to rationally eat the bread with a clear conscious as she sat on the thin balcony of one of the marble ruins.

Climbing up there had been a chore, yes, but the view was spectacular. As the dawn greeted the vile realm of Sheogorath Siena found it harder to really call it vile at all. The soft orange light shone with such pure beauty upon the world, which was a gorgeous array of greens, browns, and blues from the vegetation around it. In fact, the more she gazed upon the dawn, the more she found herself at ease, at home. It was so much like Morrowind, with its rocky lands and mushrooms of giant proportion, and colorful plants sprouting here and there through hard ground. While the mushrooms might be more like trees than those of home, and while the colorful plant life may not be technically the same, it still held that rustic and homey feel.

Until thinking of home got her thinking of **home;** of Belmyne and Drewdhen and Nanette and Felas and Jayred. Thinking of her old life, looting crypts and confiscating items at the whims of the Councilmen of Hlaalu. Thinking of Belmyne, and how right now the two of them would have been making wild, passionate love beneath the romantic soft glow of orange sunrise. A tear rolled down her cheek; she made no move to discard it.

She sat there for another hour, before the dawn had come and gone and she felt it was time to meet Jayred again. Jumping nimbly down from the thin railing around the ruin, she returned to the now familiar shack and opened the door, not even bothering to knock. Her mind was elsewhere as she entered, closing the door behind her.

Her mind made a quick trip back to reality, though, when she looked around. _Bones…_ If it wasn't for the fact they held her together, she would hate bones to her very core. She looked to her left to find the fur-clad captain sitting at his table, a collection of arrows in front of him and one in his hands. Siena ran a quick count; nineteen, twenty counting the one he worked on now. She didn't want to begin to imagine how much of that bone he had used to make those arrows.

Jayred was so absorbed in his work he didn't even notice Siena's arrival. She moved to the side of the table, standing there and watching him. With careful, loving precision his dining knife cut into the bone, shaving off a sliver there, and a sliver here. After a few minutes he seemed to take notice of the world around him, likely because he was finished, and set the knife down next to his fork and spoon, looking up to Siena.

"You're going to eat with that knife still?" Siena blurted out, looking dumbfounded and pointing at the utensil. Jayred blinked, caught off guard by the question.

"Yeah, why not? It's still good." He replied, and Siena reflexively cringed. Jayred shrugged and held out the arrow he recently finished. "Think you can shoot this?" He asked her.

"Of course I can shoot it, it's an ar-" Siena snapped quickly, before her hand went to the arrow and she took it, looking at it. The tip was ragged and triangular, looking almost like those old stone arrows before the time of men's metalworking. The shaft was smooth and straight, though she could see signs of knife shaving and straighter-stone on it.

The only thing that had her worried was the fletching. It too was made of bone. But as she looked closer she noticed the bone was precisely shaved to parchment-thin strips, and near the shaft the bone got thicker for support. It had to be one of the most expertly made arrows she had ever seen, and it left her at a loss for words.

How could a man who was the captain of a merchant vessel make such a high-quality arrow? And out of such poor quality material? It was a burning question in her mind, just like how Jayred had seemed to just know she was out to kill the Gatekeeper, even though her intentions had not been announced but mere hours before.

"Where did you learn to make such arrows?" Siena asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Jayred simply smiled, and moved to his shelves. "The bones instructed me."

That statement pretty much ended the conversation on the spot. Jayred turned around and came back, setting what looking like an oversized quiver on the table. But it also looked like a skull. Two eye sockets, and the surrounding bone, had been removed from a skull and attached to bone plates. Beneath the eye sockets were what looked like two femoral bones stuck together, and then a kneecap of sorts as a base. Two horns sprouted just under the eyes and outwards a few inches while two more shot out away from the sides of the eyes. And two more sprouted from above the eyes, mirror images of below. Even the top of the 'quiver' was fashioned like the bottom, and that symmetry coupled with the dark eye sockets to send shivers down Siena's spine. Jayred began packing the nineteen arrows into this hellish thing, before Siena reached out a hand and stopped him.

"Thanks, but I think I will use my own quiver." She told him nervously, casting a small, polite smile before taking off the rusted iron quiver and placing the bone arrows inside.

Even though she was not looking at it, the eyes of that skeletal quiver seemed to burn in her mind, staring at her. There was no way she could use such a thing. She was surprised she could even bring herself to use the bone arrows. _But at least they don't stare at me, and make me think I'm wearing a creature._ She reasoned with herself as she slung the quiver back on her back.

Jayred clapped his hands together, nodding to Siena. She looked him up and down, noticed he was already prepared, and nodded back. "Let's go kill the Gatekeeper. We might die, but there are worse things." He told her, exiting. Siena forced her lips shut to prevent herself from speaking her mind.

There were plenty of worse things in Siena's mind, but most of them came **after** death.

* * *

When Siena and Jayred arrived at the Gates of Madness, it was already midday. The sun pounded down upon them in the hot, muggy air, but both ignored it as they walked up the last steps leading to the plateau of the Gates. Simultaneously they readied their bows and knocked arrows of bone, Siena trying hard to ignore the material they were made of.

The Gatekeeper -that horrid giant of preserved flesh and cast iron- just stood there, in the center of the stone plaza with the curving stairwells at each side and the bust of a man as big as the Gatekeeper behind it. And then it moved, making Siena flinch. But all it did was strut towards its left, walking calmly. Almost as if it failed to notice two bows drawn and aimed at it.

Or maybe it just didn't care.

"We have to alternate our fire, Jayred. You fire, then I will, then you will. Each time it will draw the Gatekeeper's attention from the other and onto the attacker. It'll give us time to draw and make another shot, and possibly help keep distance between us and the Gatekeeper." Siena explained, her voice smooth and unnaturally calm.

"You go to one side, and I'll take the other." Siena told the Nord, and the captain nodded and moved towards the wall of rock at his left. Siena inched herself towards the wall of rocks on her right. The entire time, the Gatekeeper seemed oblivious to their presence.

If anything, that was what unnerved Siena the most. Not that it was undead, or rotting where it stood; while that unnerved her to the core, it was fear, and fear could be overcome. No. It was the fact that the Gatekeeper seemed to not even care, as if they were meaningless fodder. Anger was often more fatal than fear.

A bowstring twanged and an arrow whistled through the air, snapping Siena's attention towards it. She watched through her shaded lenses as the arrow soared and struck true, impaling the right shoulder of the monster; the sword shoulder. The Gatekeeper emitted a disgusting wale of pain, turning with remarkable agility towards the source of the arrow. The ground rumbled as it lumbered forward unabated by its wound, sword arm swinging back to prepare to strike.

In a panic Siena raised her bow and aimed, focusing her eyes through her shaded glasses and clearly seeing her target. Forcing her breathing to normalize, she steadied her aim and fired. The bone arrow whistled through the air before piercing into the left side of that faceless head, and the Gatekeeper tilted to the right only slightly before continuing on its path.

Almost as if the arrow did not even affect it.

Horrified, Siena cried out as the serrated blade swiped forward, clanging against the rocky wall that Jayred had chosen as his location. She couldn't see any blood, but her mind was moving too frantically now to realize that fact, and she drew another arrow, leveled her bow, and fired.

This one she made sure the Gatekeeper would feel; if it even had –or had need of- a heart. The arrow hit its mark and the Gatekeeper responded, though not in the way Siena had hoped. The unholy beast reared back in pain, again waling, before turning to face her.

Siena was about to knock another arrow when the beast reared back again, and she heard Jayred's voice. "Die dammit!" The Gatekeeper twisted in rage and punched the spot where Jayred was supposed to be. Siena could see when it turned another arrow was jutting from the back of its right shoulder.

The rock around the location cracked audibly, and Siena closed her eyes and bit her lip to keep from screaming. She opened them again, though, when the earth began to rumble. The sword came down, but Siena was already rolling out of the way. The moment she was out of the roll, she was running for her life.

In her heart she knew Jayred was dead. She knew he'd been wrong and the Gatekeeper couldn't be defeated. She knew she wasn't going to let herself die, here in this Tribunal-forsaken realm. She cared only for running, only for saving her life. She didn't even care that she'd dropped her bow in her haste to avoid the oncoming attack.

It was like a nightmare where you are unable to run quickly, and time seemed to slow around her. She could hear the rumble of massive feet behind her, but it was overcome by the thumping of her heart in her ears. The stairs to safety seemed to stretch for an eternity.

She heard the rumbles again; the Gatekeeper was closer behind her now. Instinctively she jumped, hurtling herself towards the bottom of the stairs. At the same time she twisted her body in midair and tapped into her depleted well of magicka, flinging a ball of flame at her nightmare.

The sword came within a foot of her feet, and if she hadn't jumped it would have been her waist, and not air, that met the rough metal. The fireball exploded in the Gatekeeper's face, but as Siena landed hard on her back she couldn't really gauge how effective it had been. Hurriedly she raised herself up on one arm, the other clutching her side as she tried to steady her breath.

She'd made it! She'd reached that border where the Gatekeeper would venture no further, and now stared at the monster in defiance. Its face was slightly redder than before as it presumably stared back, and then turned and left. As it walked up the stairs, Siena couldn't help but notice the odd way its sword arm seemed to dangle at its side.

Eyes wide with shock, Siena hastily began picking up the bone arrows that had fallen from her quiver while she was in the air. _So… if they did work… they simply didn't work **enough**. I need something else. Something to augment the arrows and do even more damage._ She felt a giddiness come over her that was –to say the least- surprising. All she needed was one more weapon against that thing, and the nightmare would be over.

_Nanette! Relmyna had mentioned Nanette. Didn't she say something about… instructing her or something? Maybe she knows a weakness! _Yes, yes that was just what she needed to do. Talk to Nanette and find another weakness. But first she had to find Nanette.


	11. Chapter 11: Opposites Attract

Chapter 11: Opposites Attract

Siena reached the town of Passwall rather soon, though she was somewhat limping when she did arrive. Her back was sore from her landing, and her heart had still not slowed from the excitement of the battle. She fumbled with strands of her hair to keep them from her face and make herself presentable to the townsfolk. It didn't seem to matter much though, as she did not immediately see any of them.

Felas came out of the inn bearing a bag of food in one arm, and being the only being in sight Siena naturally headed for him, moving quickly and with arm raised to grasp at him. "Felas! Felas, I need to ask you something."

When the Dunmer saw her coming quickly, he freaked, dropping the bag and thrusting out his hands. "Stay away! Away! Don't breathe on me!"

Siena complied, halting in front of him. She huffed, her breathing short, and rolled her eyes beneath her shaded glasses. Tilting her head up so as to not breathe in his direction, she spoke. "I'm not going to breathe on you, Felas. I just want to-"

"No no no! Now your horrid adventurer diseases are all about the air, and falling on me!" He began to cower in place, holding his hands over his head. Siena growled, her patience in this stressed state of activity wearing thin. So, to make sure he heard her, she yelled down at him.

"All I want to know is where Nanette is, damn it all!"

A silence fell over the two, and the surrounding area, and for a moment they remained still; Siena snarling down at the cowering form of the past agent of Hlaalu. But his shaking grew less pronounced, until at one point he peeked his head out at the huffing maiden.

"Nanette? Darling Nanette?" He asked softly, bewilderment in his eyes. Siena was struck by an odd feeling of pity and perplexity. He looked like such a child now. But his words struck her as remarkably unusual. _Darling Nanette? Wha- wait no… That can't be._ Nonetheless, Siena controlled the expression of her face, smiling sweetly and nodding.

Felas grinned, rising and slowly gathering the food he had dropped. "I was just about to meet her, coincidentally. I'm sure she wouldn't mind a visitor to tear her away from her constant reading." He said in a cheery tone that sharply contrasted his previous childish manner. When he had the bag in his arms again, though, his face was stern. "But **promise** you won't breathe on, or touch, a thing." His tone had gone hard, and Siena found herself reeling back in expectation of a strike. She nodded quickly, and Felas headed towards the house across from the inn.

By the time she had entered the threshold after the Dunmer, her heart had slowed considerably, but she was still feeling the adrenal high. It was a rather large home, and well furnished with the finest of lower class wooden furniture. A bookcase sat to her immediate right, a fireplace in front, and to her left the rest of the house remained. Her eyes wandered, seeing the long staircase leading up to a small balcony with a door, and barrels sitting upon it. More barrels sat beneath the staircase, and it was these Felas approached to store the new food. In one corner was a table, and then on the far wall she noted two beds, one on each side, with a barrel and a chest between them. _But if they really are… wouldn't there be only one bed?_ She wondered, before turning back to the fireplace when a voice spoke up, sweet and effeminate.

"Hello, is there something I can do for you?" The owner of the voice was a Breton woman in a dress that sharply resembled Relmyna's, with the tussled cuffs, golden trimmings, and v-neck. But the woman's was a deep crimson, not the black that was the necromancer's. Her hair was braided tightly back behind her head into a bun, and she smiled politely. "What was that?" She asked absently, as if she had not heard what Siena had said. Fitting considering Siena had yet to speak.

"Nanette?" Siena managed to stutter hesitantly. The woman closed her book, setting it on the bookshelf beside her. The firelight flickered over her face, and Siena released it was indeed Nanette. The structure of her face… her eyes… it had to be. Siena took a step closer.

"Don't get to close." Felas warned as he was putting away a loaf of bread, making Siena stop. Nanette giggled, and waved a hand at the Dunmer.

"Oh stop it Fel. She's fine." _Fel?_ Nanette turned back to smile at Siena. "So, who might you be, and how do you know me?"

"I'm… um…" _Dammit! Will she even remember me?_ "My name is Siena. We used to work together once."

"Hmm…" Nanette contemplated her words, before shaking her head. "Nope, doesn't ring a bell I'm afraid. What do you need?"

Siena sighed, brushing her hair from the side of her face before speaking up. "I need to know about the Gatekeeper." She said quickly, hoping for the best. Nanette looked stunned for a moment, before looking around Siena's thin form to Felas in the background.

"Fel, dear, is it alright if she sits here at the table? I'll clean it up later." Nanette said gently, and Felas looked up, before smiling and nodding. _Again with the nickname… and dear._

"Alright, fine; but only if you clean up after her." He ordered, and Nanette grabbed Siena's hand.

"Here, come and sit and eat. You look far too thin." She told the Dunmeri maiden, guiding her to the table and sitting her on the bench. Siena eyed the bread sitting there, and when Nanette nodded she snatched it up and began to eat. It had been almost a half a day since her last meal –a similar loaf of bread- and with all the excitement of the battle she'd gotten hungry again.

And thinking about the battle made her droop, as the rumble of rock being struck rung in her ears, and she imagined the snap of Jayred's bones under such tremendous force. She shuddered.

"Are you okay?" Nanette suddenly asked, knocking her from her day-mare with a hand on her shoulder. Siena sniffled, nodded, and bit the bread, chewing for a bit as she tried to regain her composure. When she swallowed, she immediately jumped to the question.

"The Gatekeeper?"

"Oh, yes, right." Nanette smiled. "He's Relmyna's crowning achievement. The Gatekeeper keeps out people who don't belong in the Shivering Isles. She made him in the Gardens of Flesh and Bone. She's my teacher." She said proudly. "She's going to teach me all her secrets." Siena's eyes bulged beneath her glasses, and she nearly choked on a piece of bread in her mouth. She knew Nanette was getting taught by Relmyna; but she hadn't expected her to be so giddy about the idea.

"Oh, and this is really interesting - wait! Never mind. My big mouth almost just got me in trouble again." Nanette giggled girlishly at this, prompting a quizzical eyebrow from Siena.

"What's interesting?" She finally asked after a moment of silence.

"I'd like to tell you… but really, I shouldn't say anything more." Nanette replied; worry crossed her green eyes as she spoke. Siena finished the bread in the following lack of discussion, thinking on her next course of action.

_I could threaten her but… Felas was always better with a blade than me, and quicker. And she's a sorceress. I doubt I could. But maybe… well, I've never really tried to trick someone that way before. But it's the best I've got._

"Tell me about something else then… like you and Felas. What's up there?" Siena asked after she swallowed the bread. She reached back and grabbed something -an apple- and began to bite into it, hunger still gnawing her insides.

Her attempt at small talk worked, and Nanette eagerly moved on to discussion of Felas. She remembered waking up on a plateau surrounded by mushroom trees, and being with the others of Passwall there, lost and confused. They'd banned together for safety and had begun to follow a stone path, fighting off strange monsters as they did. She recalled vividly watching Felas scout ahead atop stone rises, disappearing with grace into shadows and moving in on beasts that he could before they reached the group.

By the time they had reached the desolate town of Passwall, they'd lost one Dunmer man, who ran screaming back the way they had come. _Belmyne…_ Siena thought instantly.

The town had been deserted, but when they continued on they found the Gatekeeper standing there, and in fear retreated back. Felas had comforted her in her fear of the beast, and offered to live with her to protect her. From there, Nanette left things to the imagination.

Siena was stunned by the story, not so much the tale of her companions in Passwall but of Felas and Nanette. _Their minds really have been changed…_ "You two… used to hate each other you know."

"Did we?" Nanette asked, blinking owlishly. "Why, I never recall such, do you Fel?"

"Nope." He said simply from beside the fireplace, reading.

"Well you did. Back when I worked with you. You two were always at each other, insulting this way and that." Siena replied, grinning. "Sometimes it was annoying."

"I bet it must have been." Nanette agreed. "But we're better now."

"I stood up for you back then though. Just about everyone made fun of you." Siena added, and Nanette paused, perplexed. "You're afraid of the Gatekeeper, right?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"I can stand up for you, help you, and stop him. I'll stop him from haunting your thoughts." Siena's voice had leveled, as she grew more serious. In her mind, she was replacing 'you' with 'me.' "I'll put a stop to the nightmares he caused."

Nanette stared blankly at Siena for a time, before suddenly breaking down into tears. Felas got up quickly and rushed to her, embracing her. Siena watched the scene solemnly.

_"__Siena__! __Siena__ where are you? If you can hear me say something!" The voice… it was distant, so distant, but it was familiar; male, young, and with an Ashlandic, hoarse accent. _

_"__SIENA__!" The decibel of the voice had risen drastically, and in fright she curled herself up tighter. His voice was so loud. If he kept this up he'd wake them up. They'd rise, slowly and creakily from their tombs, they'd slay and chase and never give in.  
_

_"__Siena__!" The cry was joyous now, and she forced her head up to see a young Dunmer lad with a torch in his hand and a chitin short sword in the other. He smiled, and rushed to her side, dropping the blade. "Found you. I got worried when you didn't come back home for dinner last night, and your father started a search party. Come on, they're just down the hall." _

_Elation washed over her horrified body, and she thrust herself at the boy, embracing him tighter than ever before in their lives. "Oh Bel… it was terrible." She sobbed. Belmyne patted her back reassuringly.  
_

_"It's okay now, Cici."_

"I've been dying to tell someone." Nanette's choked voice cut into the memory, opening Siena's eyes. The world was liquefied, and for a moment she was unsure what happened. Then a ripple ran through the world and coolness ran down her cheek. She'd been crying. She took her glasses off and cleaned them, looking to Nanette.

"You seem trustworthy enough… But don't tell Relmyna I said anything!" Nanette ordered frantically, escaping Felas and rushing to Siena's knees. She nodded. "Her Gatekeeper is flawed! Her tears hurt him!"

Siena thrust her head back, unprepared for that information. She hadn't even realized Relmyna was capable of crying… "How the-"

"Her tears somehow agitate the Daedra bound to the Gatekeeper's body." Nanette explained quickly. "Her tears make it really restless, and it starts to strain harder against the warding magic."

"But… Relmyna… crying?"

"She may seem like a tough woman, but the Gatekeeper makes her all weepy." Nanette remarked. "Go see for yourself. She visits him every night around midnight."

There; that was the key! Excitement bubbled up in Siena slowly, and she rose from the bench. Finally, she had a way to kill the Gatekeeper, and put an end to the nightmares! Relmyna's tears! Now the question was how to go about getting them.

She was stopped half way to the door though, by a still frantic woman. "Just don't tell her I said anything. I might get another lesson in the nature of Pain. I don't like those lessons very much." Nanette's eyes were watery as she tried to speak calmly, and Siena stared back into them, her own emotion hidden behind the shaded lenses. She nodded.

"Thank you. Thank you!" Nanette cried out, and in her celebration Siena left the house, only one thing on her mind.


	12. Chapter 12: Tears of the Womb

**Author's Note:** _I apologize for the long wait for this chapter. The spring semester of college caught me in a whirl and I had completely forgotten to post up chapters. _

Chapter 12: Tears of the Womb 

Siena crouched in the nook of the rocks, watching the plaza where the Gatekeeper stood with nervous shuddering. It was so close, so unbearably close; if it noticed her, it would charge, and in her spot of hiding she would be powerless against its rotten muscular force.

But she had to hide here, and wait until midnight. So far the atrocity had yet to notice her, or maybe it had but did not care, as she had yet to set foot upon the polished white stones of the Gate. Either way, she could not risk leaving this spot to search for Jayred's body; she wasn't even sure she wanted the confirmation of his death. This close to that horrid thing, she needed some form of hope, even if it was the slim hope Jayred was still alive. The only thing she had done was grab the bow she had dropped on the way to her hiding place.

Time passed without Siena's immediate awareness, and soon she heard the step of feet upon stone. Tensing, she pressed herself even closer to the rock, trying to become one with it. In the darkness, she made out a form small above, and large below, moving swiftly towards the Gatekeeper. Golden hems caught the light of the moon, and further revealed the dark form.

"Well, my child-" The voice was undoubtedly Relmyna's. "-how are you this evening?" The Gatekeeper lumbered towards her, and Siena watched as it knelt on one knee to be closer to Relmyna, and gave a garbled groan.

"I am so proud of you, my child." Relmyna's voice had dropped, and Siena found herself unconsciously leaning forward to hear better. "You crush our Lord's enemies to dust." She sounded proud indeed, and the Gatekeeper made a noise Siena had never heard from it before; like a happy whine. She blinked in surprise, mouth dropping.

"You are strong like Him." Relmyna replied, raising a hand up to caress the sandpaper flesh of the undead being, cupping the massive cheek in her hand. "I made you for Him." She spoke even softer, and Siena narrowed her eyes. The Gatekeeper titled its head to one side quizzically. Maybe it too had detected the somberness of her tone. "But despite that… still He refuses me. Why? Why?" She withdrew her hand, plucking at something near her bodice. Siena heard a sniffle.

Relmyna was actually crying. Siena never thought she would actually be witness to such a moment, when that vile witch of a woman actually cried, revealing femininity beneath her disgusting hide. But here it was; and she had to get those tears.

She was tempted to dash out and take the handkerchief now, and run. But the Gatekeeper stopped her. Not with a physical confrontation, but with its action towards Relmyna. Its hand actually reached for the necromancer, and it emitted a low whine. Despite the gruesome countenance of the thing, she couldn't stop herself from thinking of a small child, reaching out to a crying mother and seeking to comfort her.

Relmyna broke this image when she stepped back, dropping the handkerchief on the white stone in her haste to get away. "No! Remember what happened last time, when you touched my tears? Keep away!" The Gatekeeper emitted a pained whine as Relmyna turned and ran, dress fluttering behind her in the night.

Siena was paralyzed with amazed confusion. Had she just witnessed an expression of emotion… of _love_… from that abomination? Was it even possible for the undead to have emotion? There was no doubt something emotional had occurred, but was the Gatekeeper's reaction truly emotional?

A soft moan made her jolt, and she looked at the Gatekeeper as it sat down on the stone floor, staring without eyes at the stairs from which its 'mother' had come. Siena balked, a cold tingle washing over her. It _was_ emotional. And such a discovery was disgustingly horrifying. She'd actually instilled true soul into that hunk of flesh. It wasn't just an abomination of the body; it was an abomination of soul.

How long she waited, Siena forgot, but the Gatekeeper finally rose and turned its back to the stairs, looking at the large bust of a man between the two gates. It was now or never, and Siena had no intention of sitting there a moment longer.

The agile Dunmer thief dashed to the edge of the white stone plaza, reaching out her hand and snatching up the handkerchief before throwing herself to the side, to avoid landing on the plaza. When she stopped skidding, she got up and started running, not bothering to look back and see if the Gatekeeper followed.

* * *

When Siena arrived back in town she moved straight to Jayred's hut, having no trouble getting there as no one but Relmyna would be up. The image of the necromancer sniffling in a heap on her desecrated bed made Siena smirk, and she entered the hut without even flinching at the boney décor.

She set the handkerchief down on the table, and moved through the hut with a purposeful vigor, looking through the barrels for something. She apparently failed to find it, as she ended up staring at the chest by the door instead, before pulling Jayred's lockpick out of her boot and kneeling before it.

When the lock clicked and she lifted the lid, she smiled sinisterly. She had found her quarry, and lifted the remains of the Gatekeeper femur from the chest, setting it on the floor near the table. _The best way to kill something is with the bones of its own._ Jayred's words echoed in her mind, and she sat on the bench, looking at the femur for a moment. Slowly, her iron dagger –the one Belmyne had tried to kill her with- was removed from the sheath, and she got up, sitting on the floor next to the bone.

She had the arrows, she had the tears. But there was one thing in her arsenal missing; one weapon against the Gatekeeper she didn't have. She needed the best weapons possible if she were to fight that thing alone. And as Jayred said, the best weapon was a bone. Siena closed her eyes, pushed her glasses up her nose, and exhaled slowly.

_I'm doing this for them… Belmyne, Jayred, Nanette… All of them. I can't afford to take chances. I have to do this._ She brought the dagger to the surface of the bone, angling the edge.

_For them._


	13. Chapter 13: Kill the Gatekeeper, Part 2

Chapter 13: Kill the Gatekeeper, Part 2

The sun peaked in the sky, sending rays of light upon the denizens of the Shivering Isles. A few rays pierced the windows of Jayred Ice-Vein's hut, the dust in the air sparkling like magic as the light cast itself upon dank, dirty wooden floorboards. It served to illuminate the home in a soft light, though still manifested as those intense beams upon the ground. The only other light source was the weak glow of the embers in the fireplace, the flame long dead to the chill of night.

It was in this dimness that Siena awoke, silently lifting herself with one arm into a leaning posture and looking through her hair at the surroundings. It was all a blur, but an organized blur, and she could make out the stairs and fireplace, and the dagger in her hand, but everything was fuzzy, like she was drinking. _Where am I?_ She wondered, looking around and then searching the ground for her glasses. After putting them on, she registered where she was, and frowned. _It wasn't a dream…_ She had been hoping fervently it was all a dream. But for naught, as she still awoke to her nightmare.

Siena further looked about the area, grimly picking up a collection of ivory shavings on the ground. She let them fall like sand through her fingers before reaching for her creation, picking it up. The shortsword was a child's production in quality, but it would have to do. She'd managed to make it marginally balanced and sharp, and that would have to be good enough. Reluctantly she rose and went to the table, sitting down with a sigh.

She ignored the food and mechanically began to wipe the neckerchief on the blade of the bone sword, her eyes distant. _It had to be done. I can't allow myself any disadvantage. It has to die! I have to kill it! Have to…_

Siena cried out in frustration, flinging the sword at the archery target Jayred hung on the wall by the stairs. The sword spun and stuck in the wood perfectly. Siena slammed her fists on the table, plates and food jumping, before sagging her head and breaking out in tears.

"I can't do it… I can't kill it…" She murmured hopelessly. "It's… It'll just kill me, like it did Jayred…"

"Then how are you supposed to get revenge, Siena?" A male voice broke in, and caused the Dunmeri maiden to blink, fall silent, and look up hastily. Sure enough, Belmyne was there, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed, smirking. "How are you supposed to bring us back to Tamriel and help us, if you've given up?"

Siena blinked again, staring at Belmyne. She didn't even register that he was dead, only that he was there. She stared at him teary-eyed for a while, contemplating his words and then sighing in defeat. Reprimanded, she stood up and walked to the target, pulling the sword out and polishing it with the tear-soaked neckerchief again as she moved to the table. Tears still came down her cheeks, but she bit her lip as she worked.

"You're right, Belmyne. I can't give up. Then that bastard would win." She muttered, setting down the sword and drawing arrows from the quiver on the table.

"Of course I'm right. When have I been wrong?" Belmyne asked, and Siena cracked a smile.

"Oh, I remember the time when-" She began, only to stop when she turned around and found Belmyne gone. Her lips quivered as tears welled in her eyes again, and she brought the neckerchief close to her chest. "Belmyne…" Her voice was a crackled whisper. "Thank you… For everything."

* * *

It was a belief firmly ingrained in her heart and mind from the days of her youth, a part of her culture and who she was. The ancestors of her people, the spirits of those loved ones dead and passed on, would always be there for her, to help her and guide her. And so it was with confidence Siena placed a furred boot upon the final step to the Gates of Madness, and slipped her bow off her shoulders. She felt in her heart that Belmyne's spirit was with her, to guide and protect her.

And of all the people in the world, she would _never_ let her beloved down.

Smoothly she knocked the bone arrow, her consciousness so focused that her queasiness was ignored, her determination overriding her fears. Face set for battle, she leveled the bow, glaring through her lenses at the giant blubber of rotted flesh that was her foe, her fear, her obstacle. Through the special glass she could see it clearly, make out those unholy symbols that kept it alive, and grit her teeth in anger at the atrocity that it was before firing.

The arrow sailed forth and struck, hitting the Gatekeeper in the right shoulder. It stumbled as a harsh, grating cry of pain emitted from the mouth-less ogre, and its left hand reached up to grab at the arrow. The being shuddered as it ripped the arrow out, tossing it to the ground, and turned towards Siena.

The Hlaalu agent's eyes went wide, and that determination began to slip, her fears fighting back. _It… failed…_ The fleshy horror lumbered forward, its sword arm swinging back sloppily as blood oozed from its shoulder. Siena braced herself, before launching to the side and rolling into a crouch as the massive cast iron blade slashed down, not a moment too soon. Holding her pose she drew another arrow swiftly and knocked, aiming the bow at an awkward slanted angle and firing.

This arrow didn't quite hit the mark, but still nicked the shoulder and stuck to the flabby skin, barely puncturing at the bad angle. The Gatekeeper let out another tormented wail, turning towards her and swinging with its fist. Siena leapt to dodge, but ended up directly in the swing-back of the backhand. The impact knocked the wind from her lungs and she felt magicka surge through her, before she was flung across the plaza to the ground.

Siena had certainly not expected the Gatekeeper to use magic, but it hadn't helped the Gatekeeper much. The dark glow of destructive energies sparked over her skin, only to be absorbed in pinprick flashes of light by her body. Silently thanking the gods for her birthsign, she picked herself up as the Gatekeeper lumbered towards her and reached back for an arrow.

But the quiver was empty; they'd fallen out when she was flung across the plaza, and were twigs strewn over the ground. Panicking, Siena dived, narrowly avoiding the sword chop as she rolled and grasped one of the arrows on the ground, knocking and pulling back. She didn't have time to fire, however, and that nuisance hand sought to slap her again, and she had to leap backwards, releasing the bowstring and holding the arrow to the bow with her left hand alone in order to catch herself and complete the flip, landing on her feet again. She hastily pulled back again and aimed, firing at the giant chest as the Gatekeeper righted itself.

The behemoth stumbled back, falling onto the large statue between the two stairs, before collecting itself and lumbering forward drunkenly. Its entire body was shuddering violently as it moved, trying to get to the woman that tormented it so. Siena stepped back, reaching for her shortsword; all the remaining arrows were on the ground near the Gatekeeper. She was running out of options fast.

Another step, and the Gatekeeper roared, throwing its sword arm into the air and seeking to divide the Dunmer in two equal halves. Siena gulped, tensed her legs and prepared for the worst.

An arrow whistled in the air, before a soft groan echoed from the monster. Siena took the chance offered in the moment of hesitance, and jumped at the Gatekeeper, slamming her sword into the rotted gut. As she impacted against her foe and the blade pierced, the giant tottered backwards, before crashing to the ground on its back and sending Siena rolling out of control to the ground near its head. She remained there, legs splayed out and arms flopped, catching her breath in a daze.

Siena brushed her hair behind her ears and pushed her glasses up her nose, looking through the grey lenses to see a man standing on the plaza, holding a bow in front of him. She was stunned into silence as the man stumbled to her, sitting himself on the ground.

"Jayred?"

"Congratulations. The Gatekeeper is slain." Jayred replied with a smile. He sounded like he was in pain, though, which made Siena worry. She looked over her shoulder to the Gatekeeper, as if to check it was indeed dead. When she looked back she got on her knees and moved towards Jayred.

"You're hurt."

"It's fine, it's fine." Jayred waved her off, looking at the Gatekeeper. "You did well; the honor of taking the keys from his corpse is yours." The Nord told her, changing the subject without hesitance. Siena bit her tongue, recoiling. She'd actually have to…

_Jayred looks like he's near death. He can't do it. And the keys are the only way… but where are they? _She wondered, slowly rising to her feet and stepping towards the corpse. She approached the head –nearly as large as she- and rested her hands hesitantly on the sandpapering flesh, looking at the face. She gasped and gagged at what she saw. In the well of its eye socket the flesh was bulging in the shape of a key. One of them was in there.

_Why does it always have to be the WORST possible outcome? _Siena snarled as she forced herself to draw Belmyne's dagger, and jabbed at the eye. _Well, it could be worse actually… But this is hardly any better! _The entire time she had her eyes shut as she cut out the flesh around the bulge, and tossed it aside. She opened them again to look at the result.

The key was there, sewn onto muscle loosely. Lower lip quivering and stomach about to flip, she wrapped her fingers under the key and against the flesh, and pulled. Blood sprayed out and speckled her body. Groaning in disgust she dropped the key, and moved to the other side of the head to repeat the process.

When she was finished, Siena was a gruesome polka dot painting of blood, and had two keys in her hands, flesh still dangling in small shreds from the thread that held it on the corpse. She'd left the bone sword purposely along with the bone arrows, unwilling to continue using them now their purpose was served. She was stopped as she was heading for one of the stairs by a male voice. It was a familiar bretonic voice, and the tone was sarcastic at first, then moderately disappointed.

"So, you've managed to kill the Gatekeeper. Pity."


	14. Chapter 14: Mania and Dementia

Chapter 14: Mania and Dementia

Siena turned, her shoulders rotating towards the speaker, but her hips remained in place, still about to take another step. She finally moved one foot towards the man, to better her balance.

"Yeah, I did. So?" She snapped hotly. She'd not forgotten the irritation Haskill had given her the last time they met.

"Well, you'll now be able to enter the Realm proper. You'll notice there are two doors. One leads to the lands of Mania. The other to Dementia. Enter through either one." Haskill told her dutifully, reciting a script line for line. _He's a terrible actor._

"And what's the difference?" Siena asked, now turning fully to face Haskill and folding her arms, arrogantly jutting out one hip and slouching.

"The lands of Mania are bright, vibrant, and full of color. You'll find its inhabitants reflect the land itself. If you wish to meet the residents of Mania, you'll find them in the settlements of Hale and Highcross. Take care, though. Though the citizens and creatures of Mania are colorful, they can often be quite deadly. I'm sure you can handle it, though." The compliment came dryly, lacking interest or conviction, and made Siena feel as special as the multitude of dead adventurer bones around her.

"The lands of Dementia reflect the darker side of its residents." Haskill continued carelessly. "It is easy to get lost among the tangle of roots growing out of the ground. If you wish to meet Dementia's citizens, seek them out in Deepwallow or Fellmoor. I'm sure they'll welcome one such as you with open arms."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Siena snarled, reaching for the iron dagger at her belt. Just like last time, she paused, unsure if she should strike, or let this man carry on.

"It means whatever you make of it." Haskill replied, shrugging in a courtly, elegant fashion that only made him even _more _pompous and haughty. "You may enter through either one. Really, it depends on which aspect of the Realm more suits your disposition." The last word was spoken slowly, and he had narrowed his eyes disgustedly at her. "As I've said, all choices have consequences, but don't trouble yourself too much with your decision. All those that enter the Realm are forever changed, but some believe it is for the better. A good portion of them, at least."

Haskill suddenly seemed to remember something, and reached into his buckled blouse, pulling out a delicately folded piece of parchment. "Here." He told her curtly, and Siena snatched the parchment from him with a glare. "You'll want to seek out Lord Sheogorath. I believe He has plans for you. Try not to disappoint Him." Haskill sighed, and Siena looked up at the man, frowning.

"More of this champion stuff, huh? Where is he?" Siena inquired, her aggravation lowering as Haskill proved even more useful.

"You will find Him in New Sheoth, in His palace." Haskill explained, before tilting his head to one side a small degree. "It is best not to make Lord Sheogorath wait. His whims are fleeting, and should He decide you are no longer necessary, it would be to your detriment."

"Yeah yeah whatever. I'm his guest and he should account for travel time. I'm no god after all. Can't appear wherever I bloody well wish." She shot this remark dryly at Haskill, who raised one eyebrow with supreme eloquence before sighing.

"My work is never done." He retorted, and right before her eyes began to deteriorate. Dark purple light swirled around him as he faded, becoming transparent. Siena snarled, snapping out one hand to try and grab the man by the collar and give him a piece of her mind. She grasped thin air, flexed her fingers, and growled.

Shoving him from her mind, Siena unfolded the parchment he had given her, looking at it. It was… a map. She stared at it, looking over the details. _So… this is the Fringe… And New Sheo is here._ From this map, the most direct route to New Sheo seemed to be the Low Road, which ran through Dementia and 'The Hill of Suicides'.

"Peachy…" Siena muttered, folding up the map and sticking it in her boot along with the one lockpick. Hearing steps behind her, she looked to see Jayred standing there, stalwartly holding his bow and waiting for the Gates to open.

"You get them gates open, and I'm going in. They call to me." Jayred muttered, and Siena nodded, sighing.

She had to get to Sheogorath; that much was certain. She had to find him, and either beat the royalty out of that Daedric Prince –and his irritating Chamberlain- or convince him to give her back her comrades, somehow. Both were about as impossible as her being able to fly, but Siena didn't care. All her life her superiors had advocated her determination, to never stop no matter the obstacle. She wasn't about to ignore their preaching now.

Pushing her glasses up her nose again she moved up the stairs, chainmail cuirass clinking softly. One of the two doors, the southern one, stood before her, and she stared at it.

It was less of a gate, and more of a tunnel into infinite darkness. Even the sun as it angled towards the horizon on its afternoon descent failed to pierce into the darkness of that tunnel. Siena looked up and saw the ceiling of the gate, which towered over even the Gatekeeper. With Jayred behind her, Siena began to walk into the tunnel, her fur-lined steps damped by the sheer size of the gate.

Somewhere within the dark depths, Siena was forced to stop as her hand began to shake, and she looked at it with horror. One of the keys, the dark blue and spiked one, had begun to glow, and she dropped it and the other key. Both began to glow, and then lifted into the air in front of them, before disappearing in a flash that blinded Siena.

Once the light faded from her vision, she looked around, uncertain. There was a stone platform ahead, so she walked onto it, emerging from the gate to the afternoon sun. Even in the daylight it was dank and foggy, and she couldn't make out much beyond a few yards, glasses or no. Cautiously she tread forward, taking step after step and growing a little more confident with each one.

She girlishly squealed when a trail of sparkling green lights danced in front of her and then weaved off ahead in the air. Hands on her heart, she sighed, head dropping to the ground. _Get yourself together __Siena__. It was just… whatever that is._ She looked up again at the dancing lights, curious. A hand nervously reached out, but just as she was about to touch the lights they skittered off, swerving into the air in wild yet elegant motions. And then Jayred ran off ahead.

"Wait… Jayred hold on!" Siena took off after him, trying to keep up with the athletic Nord. After a minute or so she gave up, plopping herself down with a huff in the grass and leaned her head back against a tree. "Just like all men, gets what he wants then up and leaves." She grumbled, and then laughed softly at her own joke. She stopped laughing when there was a creak of wood, and she opened her eyes, looking up.

Looking back down were eight eyeballs, attached to wood by small stalks that sprouted from a mangling of branches and trunk. The tree was carved in places, the bark removed to reveal smooth wood in a fashion that resembled a skull. Through the teeth of this skull emitted a soft glow of green light, and a wisp of emerald smoke curled out.

Siena tensed up, and slowly turned herself around so her back faced away from the creature. On all fours, she began to stalk backwards, slowly moving away from it. The thing tilted its head to one side, the eight eyeballs watching her, before what she once thought were roots lifted off the ground; they were arms. Three thick claws of carved wood protruded from the ends of the branches, the arms double jointed and tree-like. Siena froze, but it made no other move, and she began her retreat once again.

Another set of roots shifted, and the entire 'tree' rose off the ground, held up by three double-jointed legs in a tripod fashion. The creature lifted its front leg and leaned back, reaching out and taking what looked to be a very off-balance step. The two back legs jolted forward as the entire creature lurched toward her, arms reaching to skewer her flesh. Siena screamed, balling herself up and rolling away.

Getting out of the roll with one hand and drawing the iron dagger with the other, she looked at the tree creature as it righted itself and turned to face her, those eight eyes staring and never blinking. Siena shuddered and turned away as it lopsidedly charged. Coiling herself she sprung up onto a rock cliff running along the left side of the road, pulling herself up and turning to see the tree run into the rocks, stumbling back.

Going on pure instinct Siena jumped, landing on the thing's shoulders. Bracing her feet against its inner elbows to prevent it from reaching back to her, Siena frantically stabbed at the skull of the tree, swaying with the beast as it went this way and that and tried to dislodge her.

After what seemed like an eternity it fell backwards, pinning Siena to the ground with its head on her stomach. Siena gasped in pain, but on a good note… the beast stopped moving. Siena just stared at the sky as she laid there, a mutant tree being between her legs and pinning her stomach to the ground. _Vivec help me… even the trees are murderous… What is this place?_


	15. Chp 15: Please Don't Feed the Grummites

Chapter 15: Please Don't Feed the Grummites

_"__Siena__! __Siena__ wake UP!"_ A youthful male voice called out to her, echoing as if far off. Siena frowned, aggravated at being disturbed in her sleep. _"__Siena__, you lazy n'wah! You're going to miss the ceremony!"_

Siena opened her eyes, partially at first, then fully. The world around her was blurry but she could make out Belmyne's fit young form, his handsome young face. He was leaning over her, close to her and clearer than the world behind him. He looked to be ten, maybe twelve years old. _"They're swearing your papa into the position of Councilor today, remember? Don't you want to be at the ceremony?"_ Belmyne asked her with a jesting scowl. Siena smiled.

"Yeah, I'll be ready in a second…" Siena whispered, and raised herself onto one elbow before pausing, perplexed. It didn't feel like a bed beneath her. It felt hard and unyielding, like rock. And the light around her was soft, like firelight, the colors blurring into splotches of browns and mold greens in her fuzzed vision. This wasn't her house, and as she looked around, she could not find Belmyne either. What she did see made her tongue knot up and nearly choke her.

Through a thin wooden gate she could see the blurred form of a hulking humanoid beast roughly half her height, with spikes on its back. It reminded her of a fat goblin, and it stood between a small campfire and a pavilion of sorts fashioned from wooden poles and an animal skin roof. In the firelight Siena saw a glint of dulled metal. The surrounding area was new to her, but the form was familiar. It was that same sort of hideous monstrosity she had first met when entering this realm. Apparently, the goblin analogy wasn't too far off; it was as primitive and intelligent as a goblin, and equally getting on Siena's nerves.

The thing was holding something, inspecting it. Siena could only guess what thanks to her glasses missing. This brought the question of where they were, where she was… and how the hell she'd gotten here. She shifted her position slowly to try and find the spectacles on the ground, but a surge of stinging pain made her bite her lower lip and stop moving.

Still biting back the urge to cry out, she looked at herself, and found the cause of the pain; her right thigh was gashed, and it looked like a wolf attack. She tried to wrack her aching brain for the cause of this sudden injury.

_She walked down the path cautiously, looking around the cliff that flanked her left side for an enemy in the distance. The grasses to her right shifted, and as she turned a form charged her, hitting her thigh before she could even register what it looked like. She hit the cliff wall..._ And that was as far as she could remember. Frowning, Siena tried to take inventory of her situation further without moving. Her chainmail cuirass and furred boots were on, along with the pants. She could still feel the lockpick in the boot, along with Belmyne's iron dagger in the other. Siena smirked wickedly; the thing was indeed as intelligent –or less so- as a goblin.

She needed to escape. Needed to heal, needed to find her glasses, needed to get out of wherever she now was. Slowly dragging herself towards the gate of her confinement, she bit back the throbbing pain and reached into her boot for the lockpick.

The lock was as primitive as the prison 'bars', and in half a minute Siena had cracked it open without issue. But she knew the gate wasn't going to be an obstacle; killing her captor in her state was the true obstacle. But unlike before, she could not see any source of water in the area; one point in her favor. The other was the element of surprise.

Siena closed her eyes, searching within herself for that large pool of magicka common to those of the Atronach. While it was still dwindled, unable to recover from the more recent uses, there was enough for her purpose, and while still lying on the ground, she delicately pushed open the gate.

The other hand was pulsing with magicka, and Siena lifted herself using the gate, weakly thrusting this hand out at the offending blur-monster. The magicka ignited and shot forth, fire rushing through the air. The impact was not largely explosive, but sent the beast stumbling.

Right into the campfire.

The resulting cries of agony made Siena shut her eyes as the thing began to flail about, only fanning the growing flames. She couldn't erase the feeling that a frog being burned alive would make a very similar noise, and those unease-inducing cries echoed in her mind long after the toad-man-thing had collapsed and died of third degree burns. Grimacing at her bittersweet victory, Siena crawled towards the campsite of the now prone form, searching the ground. Finally she felt thin, cool metal on her fingers, and scrambled to put on her lenses and see the world clearly once more.

The sudden shift from dull, dim, and blurry to dimmer, duller, and clearer induced further headache in the Dunmer. Groaning, she reached for Belmyne's dagger, crawled to the bedroll the creature had slept upon once, and began to shred it. If she was going to make it out of here, she had to properly tend to the wound. It was dried and scabbing, but if there were more of those frog-faces, it wouldn't remain that way. Siena sincerely hoped there weren't, or there could possibly be healing potions somewhere in this place.

There was only one way to go when she'd managed to get steady on her feet, and that was through the hall beyond. Grabbing the spear-point dagger of the burnt corpse for extra armament, she proceeded to stumble down the hall, her clumsy steps softened by the moss of the tunnel floor. Navigating was even more difficult because of the tint of her lenses (which, ironically, was supposed to help her see; the craftsmen had not accounted for dungeon dives) dimming the already low lighting given off by the bulbous blue flora she occasionally passed.

Thankfully, the tunnel was relatively level; unfortunately, it also led right into a four-way intersection occupied by not one, but _two_ of the beasts. Their skin glistened like slime in the light of two torches erected at the entrance of the tunnel to her left; a tunnel going down. The tunnel opposite her went up. Siena frowned as she carefully crouched into a nook in the rock wall of her tunnel, shrouded in shadow and soft, dim blue light.

_Torches mean encampments. Encampments mean more of them. Uphill slope means it is likely to lead to the surface, out of here. But it could also be a dead end. And I am in no condition to fight even two of these, let alone more…_ As she was musing in the darkness, the two beings had wandered towards separate halls. Snapping at the opportunity to get at least somewhere, Siena dashed for the hall to her immediate right, remaining close to the wall and barely maintaining poise. When she'd made it into the hall and around a bend without incident, she thanked Vivec for the moss beneath her feet, collapsing to rest.

After the pain in her thigh had begun to dull, and no further danger was imminent from either direction of the tunnel, Siena rose and carried on, a tight grip on both daggers making her dark blued knuckles turn white. She slowly made her approach, hiding her slim form behind a large mold-green blob with mangrove-like roots before coming out in full view to find a dead end.

She did frown, but she did not turn away. She found her attention grabbed by a certain thick root that came from the ceiling and continued into the floor. It was blotched in bright spots of hardened sap, and those strange lights she'd first seen when passing through the Gates of Madness danced now in front of the root. Only now they were orange and danced far more frantically. Slowly, she stepped up to the root and brushed her fingertips over the smooth amber, before smiling.

Hlaalu minds thought primarily of three things; survival, political strength, and wealth. Siena raised the crude spear-tip dagger she'd confiscated, and began to carve at the amber, wedging the blade between crystallized sap and hard wood. Small, light chucks came loose, and these few chunks she pocketed. The beautiful amber looked valuable, if the Shivering Isles proved to have a market; and if it had guards, Siena would not be able to pilfer for her meals. And wealth meant influence; she'd need all the leverage she could get against the Mad God, any diplomatic or aggressive might she could grasp.

Siena gasped as a strange gas spewed from a tree trunk, the thick cloud of green suffocating her with a weak stench. Pinching her nose, Siena looked at the twin stumps of hollowed wood. In the hallow shell, a mass of green gelatinous matter had taken up residence. Siena leaned close curiously. Was that-?

Her reaction was instantaneous, her arm plunging into the blob without hesitation. She ripped it back out, clutching a bottle victoriously in her hand; a hand which was now elbow-deep in aqua blue slime.

Siena ignored this fact as she looked at the bottle, staring at the contents. Seeming unconvinced of the safety of the potion, she opened it and sniffed it. Satisfied, she became a Nord with his first mead in a week, not even stopping to breathe between gulps. Finished, the bottle fell to the ground as Siena slumped against the amber root and sighed.

The potion was weak, and took a little time to take affect, but when it worked to heal her wound she felt the difference quickly; the cool, soothing touch of magic upon her intensely tingling thigh. A minor healing, but it would be enough for now; until she could find another potion. The other trunk was sadly empty.

Before she got up, though, she looked at the spear-point dagger inquisitively. Then her grip shifted to the tip of the blade, and she chucked it at the wall. It stuck. _Good… a better throwing knife than the iron dagger, though somewhat off balance. If I can get one critical shot though, I can make it._ She reasoned with herself, going over to the dagger and yanking it out, before turning towards the tunnel entrance soberly.

Of the two, the first one didn't even get to know what it was that buried itself at the base of his skull, but his comrade knew quite well when he slumped to the ground. The slimy humanoid hissed anger as it turned towards the killer, seeing the shimmer of steel chain links and a glint of red eyes in the torchlight. The being sloshed forward on its webbed feet, charging at Siena.

Unlike her first encounter with the thing, Siena was more accustomed to it, and better prepared for the battle as a result. This preparation was evident in the simple fact that the beast's charge was cut short by a small advance by the Dunmer, followed by a vicious stab to the face when it was open to attack. Apparently, they weren't quite intelligent enough to understand blocking with those daggers of theirs. Siena plundered the bodies, taking the daggers and spare gold. To her delight, one of them was also sporting a lockpick. That fit nicely into the boot with the other, but the four daggers wouldn't fit in a boot quite so nicely.

A little disturbed by the idea of it, she decided on taking the thick black leather belt off one of the corpses, and holding onto the daggers with it. Once armed comfortably, she looked at the last two tunnels. One went down –the one with the torches- but the other went up. Reason dictated that in a cavern up was good if one desired escape, so she took that path.

The uphill slope proved unforgiving to her thigh, which wasn't happy with her behavior of late either. But she made it, and around the bend found herself looking at another small 'camp'. The fire cast an eerie, unnerving light on the slick, fat bodies, but it also revealed another form beyond them. Taller, thinner, and three-legged. She could barely make out the silhouette, but shuddered nonetheless. _That living tree…_

There had to be another way. Siena had been sticking close to the wall, and now in frustration leaned against the bubbly wet-

_What the-?_ Siena realized it too late, however, and fell through the sea green membranous screen onto hard stone. Frighteningly turning around, she watched the membrane close itself back up, removing all trace of her ever passing through the 'door'. _Now_ the cavern was beginning to unnerve her. Slowly, she rotated and headed down the new tunnel.

This one opened up into a vast underground chamber decorated with massive roots that ran along the walls, diagonally like ramps from the upper to the lower level, and even across the gaps between plateaus above. Most of the roots sported protrusions that were sharp pointed and large; either root branches, or really large thorns. More of the fluorescent flora abounded the cavern, but Siena turned her attention instead to the poorly made stake barricade made at the tunnel entrance. And the animal skin roofs she could see on the above plateaus. The torches, and three large crimson statues, did little to dissipate the idea that she'd just stumbled upon a full scale encampment.

Inhaling through her nostrils, Siena clenched her fists, and hoped her leg would hold up to the coming battles. Getting out of here was not going to be easy.


	16. Chapter 16: Frog Legs and Gnarl Jerky

Chapter 16: Frog-legs and Gnarl Jerky

A quick survey of the immediate area told her one thing; she'd have to be careful with her next move. While standing in the shadows of the tunnel, she could see ahead of her the three crimson wooden statues, totem poles rising from the ground. They were faces; froglike faces stacked one atop the other, with large lower lips and jutting teeth. Paired on opposite sides of the pole as if standing back to back, they alternated between facing north-south and east-west as they stacked. They looked almost like the faces of the beasts she now monitored.

One of them walked amongst the totems, and in the flickering torchlight she could see the curved, thin shape of a bow. It was so familiar to her, the shape of the bow limbs as they curved to the ties of the bowstring, that she knew it _better_ than the back of her hand. An archer was there, yards from her. And all she had was sub par throwing knives.

To complicate matters, there was a small gathering of the camp shacks to her immediate right, with one of the beasts meandering around. She could hear the footsteps, see the shadow. A dark spear tip; it wielded one of those daggers. With such close proximity, but a wall between her and the opposition, taking out the beast without attracting that archer would prove a problem.

Siena leaned her head back, crown resting on the smooth rock wall of the tunnel, and inhaled with eyes closed. _Three, two, one._

The spinning rush from the tunnel was quick, and in mid turn Siena nearly crumpled to the ground from the pain in her right thigh, the leg she had placed her weight on involuntarily. Sadly, this wobble sent the thrown knife higher than she'd hoped, and it sailed over the thing's head and ripped the animal skin shack roof. The Dark Elf stumbled onto her good leg, straightening her right leg and using it more for balance than support as she gripped another of the spear-like crude weapons in her left hand.

As she anticipated the thing charged towards her, and she prepared for the coming attack, leg muscles tightening. It brought its dagger arm across, intent to make a deadly slash to her right flank. But Siena was faster and her left arm came up, burying her weapon to the handle in the creature's armpit, as the crude dagger lacked a hilt. She could feel cool blood coat her fist as an artery severed, and the thing's weapon clanged on the stone cavern floor.

It was not the only sound to reach Siena's ears, as a bowstring twang followed a moment later. She didn't even try to dodge, instead collapsing to the ground. A dull, wet impact and a fatty thud later, and she was rolling over a toad-like corpse to gain coverage, thanking any god that would listen for the fatness of the creature. Thanking in between the pulses of pain from her leg, of course.

The arrows stopped; the beast was intelligent enough to know she wasn't coming out of her miniscule cover. Until the pain stopped being so mind-gripping, at which point Siena rose from her left leg and looked the monster square in the eye. The bow drew back, the arrow pointed at her, and she continued to glare through shaded glasses, red eyes narrowed.

The arrow shot off, and Siena twisted her shoulders ninety degrees, taking one step to her side. The arrow passed harmlessly, to be replaced by a triangular chunk of crude iron that spun threw the air in the opposite direction. The beast had two disadvantages in this situation; it was slower on land than Siena, and it was larger. Both made it hard to dodge the knife, but true doom lay in the fact that Siena aimed for the biggest section of flesh, the mid torso.

Stunned by the dagger to the gut, the hideous beast reeled back, trying to remain steady. All attempts failed when a second projectile marked territory in the toad-man's skull, and he crumbled to the ground in a bloodied heap. Siena stood there in her victory, breathing deeply yet glad she was still breathing, and grabbed the dagger her first opponent had dropped, before moving to retrieve her weapons from the archer. Grimacing in disgust each time she withdrew one of the daggers from its flesh, she wiped the blades on the slimy skin before removing a quiver of a dozen arrows from it.

Inspecting those arrows made Siena's heart drop. They looked to be made out of bone, or some a sort of hard wood, but of such poor quality craftsmanship it was a wonder they could fly straight. The bow wasn't much better off, suffering from moisture damage and neglect. It was likely ready to break in the next week at best. Still, she would be more productive with the bow than she would be throwing spear heads left and right. Sighing at her unfortunate fortune in acquiring the bow, she slung the quiver over her shoulder and adjusted her grip, looking to the slanted giant root ramp to the plateau above. She didn't have much choice but to climb, so drew one of the primitive daggers and began her ascent.

The crouching was bad enough, but crouching on an incline forced her to grit her teeth in pain with each step. Siena was already feeling numb gums by the time she reached the top. And then she slipped.

Maybe it was the change from root to rock, or maybe one of the stones was loose, but she slipped and collapsed, barely able to thud onto the plateau and prevent herself from sliding back down the root she'd worked so hard to climb up. Of course, the noise became her undoing.

The croaking growl made Siena look up startled, only to roll and avoid the stab from above the beast executed. She slammed into the side of a spiked log barricade, but facing the opposition, so pushed off the barricade and slammed herself into the creature as it recovered.

It hit the ground with a slick thud and groan, but was silenced as Siena raised her dagger and jammed it into the jugular. Blood streamed out, and she turned her head, rolling off to avoid the spray. It flailed with futility before falling still, while Siena lay beside it catching her breath. When she was able to get up, she rolled over to it, and removed her dagger, before reaching out to take-

_What in the world?_ Siena carefully and curiously peeled the thing's fingers from the object, and brought it closer to see it better. A cone the length of a dagger or shortsword, but the material was quite foreign to her. It looked as black as the ebony in Morrowind, but this was not the same. While nearly as heavy and likely almost as strong, it felt, and looked, different. It was rough, not smooth, and veins of softly glowing gold ran along its surface.

But if it was comparable to ebony, it had to be valuable. She thought nothing more of it and pocketed the mineral, before getting up and looking around. This encampment on the small plateau was more furnished than the previous ones, with a table, cooking pot, and even some sort of stone chest. She cracked this open and robbed it of anything valuable, before picking up one of the crude daggers sitting on the table. That made five of the spear-head daggers, and Belmyne's. She shouldn't need any more; she didn't have much more room for them with this belt anyways.

Her options, sadly, looked slim. There was a tunnel ahead, and what looked to be a branch ramp to her left. She'd rather not have to deal with those roots again if she could avoid it. So, the tunnel was her choice.

It turned out to be a stupendous option as well, as she ran into another of the gelatinous green blobs in a tree trunk at the bend of the hall. Sticking her hand in, she discovered, to her sheer delight, yet another healing potion. And to her luck, a magicka restoring potion as well. Not even blinking as to the origins of the potions, she downed both, and sat beside the trunk as they took effect.

When she continued on down the hall, however, she arrived outside of the root ramp she had been trying to avoid, and got a perfect view of the fight below. Wood creaked and creatures croaked as she watched one of the twisted tree-beings smack its beefy wood arms into the skull of a toad-man. Siena was torn; she didn't want to fight either of them. But she'd prefer to have to fight the toad instead of the tree. Those eight eyeballs reflected in her mind and sent a chill down her spine as she knocked an arrow and pulled the string back.

Just from the sound alone, she knew the bow was bad, but there was still some life left in it when she released, and the arrow whistled into the side of the tree head. The three legged behemoth of plant life wobbled to one side, and the frog-man took advantage of the opportunity, leaping onto the tree and hacking with its dagger like a madman.

When the tree beneath it fell still, the beast was given no opportunity to get off his kill, as an arrow to the temple spun him into the cavern wall, prematurely ending the champion's reign.

_The trees and these beasts are not allies…_ The truth of this observation was compounded when she noticed one of the tree-beings was prisoner in the same sort of thin branch cage she'd been in. Siena briefly recalled seeing bark on one of the tables; it was possible they could be farming the trees, like cattle. Rather dangerous cattle, apparently. A cruel, sly smile crept over Siena's ashen face. _Perfect. _

All she had to do now was regulate the battles from the shadows, when possible. Descending slowly, she bypassed the prisoner tree-beast as none of her toad enemies were near. Instead, she moved off down a mossy tunnel, and reached a dead end.

Or so it appeared, but Siena was not one to forget past mistakes easily. She looked at the bubbly, slimy wall surface before her, contemplating. It looked remarkably familiar to the door she'd accidentally fallen through. Carefully, she placed her hand on the glistening surface.

Instantly the bubbly sea-blue substance came alive, retreating into the wall and leaving a gapping whole for her to pass through. Drawing an arrow from the quiver on her back, she knocked it to the string and stepped through.

She'd entered a large hall, not at all dissimilar to all the other ones she'd been through, and wearily advanced. She stopped though, when a low wall of root and fungal plants blocked her view partially, from two beasts on the other side. Through the gaps in the 'wall' made by the thin tentacles growing out of the bulbous green fungus, she could make out her enemies. It was only two of those frog-men, no tree-things.

Carefully, she pulled back the bowstring, aimed, and shot.

The arrow hissed through the gaps of the tentacles and hit one of the creatures in the shoulder, knocking it to the ground. Its comrade hissed and hobbled around the wall, prompting Siena to hastily knock and draw back an arrow, letting it loose. The arrow seemed to wobble in the air before sticking in the creature's eye, causing it to stumble and wither about in blood-blinded agony. As Siena watched it die, she frowned, and then looked down at the bow.

The arrow had not shot as steadily as she had expected. She'd have to be more careful to do slow and controlled shots with this bow, or it would break on her sooner. That presented a problem. It especially presented a problem because most of the locations she'd have to utilize to get clear shots were likely lit by torches.

But even with a damaged, near broken bow, Siena's superb archery succeeded in silencing her obstacles as she moved through the vast cavern complex. There was no real deviation in the look of the caverns or tunnels, each moss covered, rocky, and dominated by those thick roots. Her encounters were made easier by the fact that the beasts isolated themselves so frequently. In those times when they did group, it was usually meager pairs, and presented little difficulty. She occasionally stumbled upon one of the bleeding roots, covered with hard amber. These she chipped at, taking some of the valuable gem before carrying on.

Siena paused when she stepped into the third cavernous room since she began her escape. She was on the lower level, and there was a plateau just above her. This one was crowned by a dock-like platform fashioned from roughly cut planks. It seemed to be a more advanced style of the animal skin and pole shacks she had encountered in the beginning, and so far she'd seen them on more structurally unstable sections of the caverns. She wouldn't have stopped just from seeing this above her, though. She stopped because a sentry had been standing on this platform, and the entrance to her tunnel was conveniently lit by two torches, revealing her ashen form to the sentry above.

As expected, it charged down the ramp at her. She'd recently given up on using the bow on these beasts, as there were so many of them and the bow seemed less stable with each shot. So when it charged, she positioned herself sturdily on her newly healed leg, and drew one of the three crude daggers she still sported.

The creature took a swipe at her chest, but Siena had crouched just beneath it, so the tips of her unkempt hair felt the slice of the dull blade. As she reached the apex of her crouch she lunged forward, burying the dagger into the thing's chest. Like all of her recent kills before it, she pulled her blade out, and continued on after looting the body of gold and lockpicks, stuffing away both in her clothing.

This root ramp was easier to climb than the first one, as her legs had a few more doses of healing potions she'd found on her journey. When she reached the top she crouched just in front of the front steps of the platform, peaking over it to the three toad-men beyond, all congregating around a camp fire. In the far distance she could see another wooden cage, and a form moving within it.

She was healthier than she'd ever been in this cavern complex, sure, but she was not at her prime condition, and had yet to test her mettle against three of the monstrosities. So, she took the bow off her back, drew out an arrow, and slowly stepped onto the platform, moving to her right with soft, fur-padded steps to get a better angle. Her form glimmered in the soft torchlight from the moisture of the cavern, her own sweat, and the links of steel comprising her cuirass. The arrow knocked onto the string, she pulled it back, and leveled it.

It was all up to luck now, as she could barely see the primitive lock on the prison cage. Holding her breath, she fired, and the arrow went over the heads of the beasts before clanging into the cage. Anticipation gripped her heart as she watched them turn as one to look at the cage, and the form within rotated. All four looked confused, dazed, and Siena bit her lip, moving her right hand up slowly to grasp another arrow.

The form within seemed to know something the others did not, and reared back on two hind legs before slamming the one front leg into the thin reed gate. It cracked like twigs, blasting out forcefully and making the toad-men flinch. Siena froze in mid draw of her arrow, crimson eyes watching the scene with sadistic interest.

The three toad-like men ran frantically towards the tree as it charged from the cage on the unsteady tripod of branch legs. The first to reach the unnatural monstrosity was smacked aside by the thick branch-arm, bouncing fatly off the ground and over the ledge to the floor just below. The second one buried its dagger in the tree trunk, only to get shaken off into the wall, the dagger still in the tree bark.

The third managed best, however, as it literally frog-hopped to the left when one of the carved-clawed arms thrust out, then to the right when the other struck out. Then it jumped forward and slashed out, cutting into the bark before jumping back. In the recovery from the attack, however, the tree had lashed out, and the large carved wooden talon on the arm skewered the hopping creature. The slimy body slid off the bloodied claw as the tree rose victoriously, and moved to the wall-impacted creature, raising both arms to bring their thick masses down and club it.

An arrow dully impacted into the leafy spine of the tree beast, causing it to falter and stumble into the wall. Another arrow joined the first as it recovered from the shot, sending it crashing into the wall again. Stubbornly undefeated, the thing rose a final time, before a thick spear point slammed into the back of the skull, the neck giving a wooden crack in response. The arms went limp, and the entire being collapsed to the ground, motionless.

Feeling victorious, Siena proceeded, finding the tunnels beyond easy to maneuver and conquer compared to the large cavern rooms. She rose from the corpse of her most recent frog-man victim, pocketing both the gold it had once possessed, and yet another of those strange ebony cones. The torchlight danced between two wooden stake barricades, their spear tips pointing down the upward slopping hall. The direction of the spikes and the upward slope told her it likely led up, and hopefully out as well. So, she ascended.

Sure enough, she saw a ray of midday sun when the bubbly substance dilated to allow her through. It was evening when she last remembered being outside, so she had to have at least spent a night in these caverns, if not more. _"It is best not to make Lord Sheogorath wait. His whims are fleeting, and should He decide you are no longer necessary, it would be to your detriment."_ Haskill's words echoed emotionlessly in her head, as if reprimanding her for her tardiness.

_Well, it's not my damn fault I was abducted by fish-faces._ She grumbled to herself as she began to walk up and out of the root tunnel into the open air.

Only to stop dead, as just over the edge of the sloped tunnel exit she could see two of the beasts standing guard, their backs turned to her. Her legs bended instinctively, and she treaded forward, a silent breeze of approaching death. An arrow drew from the quiver, knocked into the bowstring, and Siena slowly pulled it back.

The string creaked as it was pulled, and she held it, steadying her breath and her bow before letting go of the bowstring. The usual twang did not sound; a loud crack replaced it, chilling Siena to the core.


	17. Chapter 17: The Mazken

Chapter 17: The Mazken

A paralysis spell couldn't have kept Siena as motionless as she now was, bow in hand and aimed at the two toad-men. Hanging from the bow were two strings; strings that were once **one.** And the arrow that should have soared, should have sickly stuck in slimy flesh and ended the battle, instead pathetically clattered to the stone ground beneath her, completely harmless. The bowstring had finally snapped, and the loud crack it caused had brought the attention of both beasts, who turned in a daze, saw her, and in wide pupil-less yellow-eyed surprise drew their little serrated daggers and sloshed towards her.

It was an archer's worst nightmare. A broken bow and the attention of the target _and_ their company. Siena's heart ticked from cold still to pounding as they drew closer and she was forced to act.

The bow was the first to go, but it was discarded with purpose. The toad-face grew wide, caught off guard by suddenly having to dodge a chucked bowed stick of wood. That bought Siena time to draw one of the three remaining spear-tip daggers and fling it into the monster's face, while drawing a second to charge towards the final one.

Her last opponent between her and freedom from the beasts never reached her though. It ran up the slope leading to the root cavern entrance, sure, but it got halfway there before being violently thrown to the side rag-doll style, slamming into the side of a spike log barricade and collapsing it.

Siena instantly crouched and stepped back, eyes roving like a beast being hunted. Only one thing could have caused such a sudden jerk of motion. And she saw that thing sticking out of the toad's skull, a long shaft of dark material that gleamed with a glossy shine in the sun. An arrow dead on its mark; she was in no condition to be challenging such an opponent, and so crept further back towards the declining slope of the root cavern entrance.

A shadow grew on the ground, coming from the other side of the large tree root-trunk on her left. It was definitely humanoid in shape, and feminine. Siena gripped her dagger looser, preparing to throw it at a moment's notice.

But when the owner of the shadow was revealed, Siena found herself frozen; unable to throw, unable to retreat, unable to doing anything but stare.

It was indeed a female; the large bust attested to that along with the curved hourglass form. But it was unlike any man, beast, or elf Siena had ever laid eyes upon. Her skin was darker than a Dark Elf's, more violet than ashen, and her eyes; those eyes were unnatural in every way. The whites of the woman's eyes were not white at all but void-black and her irises were bright sapphire, bright enough to actually glow from her eye sockets like tiny stars.

The woman's blue star-eyes turned and locked upon Siena, and the Dunmer found herself still incapable of movement, seduced into inaction. She held a long, serpentine blade in her hand that resembled Daedric weapons in their wicked, rune inscribed design, but black as coal. That blade had a glossy sheen in the daylight, just like the arrow earlier.

The wickedness of the blade went well with her armor. The entire suit of armor was angular, with ridges rising to edged peaks and extending into spikes from the edges of the shoulder plates and crown of the shield, and the shield itself looked like large dark grey shell. But Siena noted the armor was skimpy, leaving the gut and collar exposed. Her chest was protected only by a brassiere of metal, and a skirt of dark green cloth kept her waist decent. If she had any hair, it was concealed by a tight fitting helmet.

_But there must be a reason for her to wear so little protection on her torso. Unless it's merely to draw attention to her assets._ Siena pondered with disgust, the spell that held her eyes when she first saw the woman beginning to ebb the more she looked upon her.

"The Grummites were hunting a mortal." When the woman spoke Siena found herself once again caught by surprise. Her voice was remarkably echoing, like two women were saying the same thing within half a second of each other. It was a deep female voice, too, adding a more foreboding element to the already intimidating figure.

"Is it Blessed Kiskedrig?" Came another, identical voice. Siena's eyes darted towards the second approaching figure, and fear gripped her heart. This second was identical to the first, only wielded a glossy black bow. Even the voice was identical. _Blessed? Could they mean the same as Relmyna? _

"It looks Blessed." The first with the sword remarked back, stepping towards Siena. She stepped back instinctively, the spell of the women having worn off. If they meant the same thing by 'blessed' as Relmyna had, she could divine their meaning. They wondered if the mad god had touched her.

She probably did look the part of a lunatic splendidly, no matter how lucid she felt. Her adventure in the cavern had given her plenty of smudges and bruises, not to mention the odd bits and ends of twigs from her wrestles with the tree-beings that caught in her chain links. Her hair was sweat-matted to her skull and her drawstring fingers raw from her archery, along with her left inner forearm. If anything, she looked as bedraggled as a beggar in Balmora.

But as Siena drew back from the approaching violet-skinned woman, she also began to devolve into a more animalistic, cornered stance. When she finally spoke it was through grit teeth; she was on the edge, nearing the fight or flight desperation of cornered animals. "Who are you?"

It was the unnatural woman's turn to pause now, and she regarded Siena coolly for a time, her glowing eyes piercing through Siena's shaded glasses and into her own. It was like the being was staring into her very soul, analyzing her. The serpentine blade was sheathed, and likewise the archer of the two removed her arrow and slung her bow on her back.

"Blessed with amnesia likely." The sword-wielder remarked with a hint of jibe. "If she was Heretic or Zealot, she would have attacked us by now."

"A feral Blessed… She must be fresh from the Gates of Madness, looking for New Sheoth." The archer continued, and Siena notably perked up at this, looking to the archer expectantly. _"You will find Him in New Sheoth, in His palace."_ Haskill's voice echoed in her mind, which only served to bring her irritation, but she quelled it. _New Sheoth… that's my destination. They know it!_

"I need to get to New Sheoth." Siena spoke up, beginning to rise to a standing position, slowly.

"Perhaps you are correct. She is a lost Blessed." The warrior replied to her archer companion, not to Siena. Like the Dunmer didn't even exist. Or her words meant nothing to the violet woman's ears. But then both beings turned to look at her, and the warrior gestured to herself.

"We are the Mazken."

"Maz… ken?" Siena repeated, rising now to a full standing position and giving the woman a quizzical look. If they were going to kill her, they would have done so much sooner. It seemed the title of 'Blessed' also meant you were safe in this realm. _Safety in insanity! How ironic._

"The Mazken guard Crucible in New Sheoth, and the lands of Dementia." The archer replied calmly. "We ensure the Demented remain orderly and respectful to our Lord Sheogorath."

"Sheogorath is our Lord, ruler of the Shivering Isles. It is by his whim that the Mazken walk, and we serve our Master to the death." The warrior completed, and Siena gulped down the lump growing in her throat. _Guards… Sheogorath's guards._ "If you require assistance to New Sheoth, Blessed Mortal, you can accompany us. We were patrolling Dementia, and were about to return to Crucible." The woman's echoing voice never wavered, always sounding like two women speaking a second apart.

_I could accompany them. I mean, so far my trip through Dementia hasn't gone well. I got attacked by a tree-thing… attacked by something else I still don't know, kidnapped by a bunch of…_ "What did you call those things?" Siena asked out of the blue, cutting out of her contemplative silence.

"This is a Grummite." The Archer answered. "They are amphibious beasts with primitive tool abilities. Some are capable of magic as well."

_Grummite… I got kidnapped by a frog-faced beast with a bug name. Great. She dispatched them so easily, and now I have no bow, only three daggers. Two of them primitive._ "If it's okay with you, I would like to follow to New Sheoth." Siena declared, moving her right hand towards her belt, and placing the grummite dagger back where it belonged.

"Very well." The warrior responded, turned, and headed down the path eastward. The Archer followed with a small smirk on her purple lips. Siena followed about a yard behind, wary of her new companions. They traveled as if the dangers of this dark, gloomy swamp -where the rays of sunlight shone through clouds of swampy fog and tree canopy, making it dinged grey despite the midday sun- meant nothing to them.

They passed by a broken, abandoned dock on the side of a pond, and Siena found herself entranced by the strange additions to the massive tree roots and trunks that hung over the water. There were these strange, slimy sacks, bumpy and uneven, looking like an enlarged collection of elderberries. But they had a sickening color, and reminded Siena of pus. Curious, she ventured closer to the water's edge to look at the nearest one.

She let out a sharp gasp and stumbled back when it squirmed, and echoing laughter made her face flush. The warrior Mazken was there beside her, a grin on her dark face. "Those are Grummite egg sacks. I'd be careful, mortal, around them. Usually there is a Baliwog in their vicinity."

"Baliwog?"

"Definitely an Amnesiac, Kiskedrig." The Archer remarked from afar. Siena pulled her lips taunt, annoyed with the Archer's jab at her. Did they not realize she was completely new to the Isles? But they did have Grummites in Passwall, so they probably expected her to know the wildlife already, having spent some time in Passwall.

Regardless, Siena would figure out what a Baliwog was later. For now, the Mazken were on the move, and she intended to keep them in her sights. She got off the ground agilely and followed silently, watching her escorts.

They reached a fork in the path, where it split into left and right around a large moss-covered stone. The path seemed to be carved through the rock, though, as there were large boulders and cliffs of stone around the path as well, like the central rock and surrounding had once been connected, before the path had been made. It also meant whatever was on the other side of the rock could not been seen, until one was on that side of the rock.

Both Mazken stopped, reaching for their weapons, and Siena followed suit, crouching into the shadow of one of the crags of rock. She was tempted to remove her shades, so that in the gloom of the Dementia swamps she could better watch the battle; but without her corrective lenses she'd likely miss the details anyways. They heard something, and she slowed her own breathing to try and hear it as well.

There; the heavy, snotty breathing of those fish-beasts, the Grummites. Just as Siena registered the sound the Mazken moved forward, splitting to each side of the rock and heading around it with speed that made Siena feel slow. The sound of battle touched the afternoon air as she moved towards the other side, but the Grummite was already dead upon her arrival. She'd missed her chance to watch them fight, to see the technique of the guards of Sheogorath. But it did tell her one thing; they were quick about the kill. Siena bit her lip at the thought. Both Mazken relaxed their weapons, and a feeling of calm came upon the area.

The calm was eviscerated by a hideous, ear-grating screech, and a small, long mass landed on Siena's back, causing the Hlaalu agent to scream and thrash, her right hand reaching for a Grummite dagger at her hip while the left hand sought the arm of her aggressor, intent on tossing it off. She rolled, and it with her, still clinging to her back.

She could feel its body beneath her. Long and thin as a bow shaft, it was squirming and thrashing beneath her, and her heart raced as she felt long, sinuous fingers around her shoulders and thin, fang-like protrusions near the back of her head. Pulse pounding, she thrust her dagger under her back, trying to keep the beast pinned. After several stabs, it fell still, and she no longer felt those fangs upon her skull. Rolling off, she looked up from her elbows at her kill, and her heart leaped into her throat.

It was a dark brown, sand-papery skinned beast, and its body was so thin it may as well have been starved. The arms were long and thin, ending in hands with similar fingers, and the double-jointed legs were even thinner. But it wasn't the near skeletal appearance of the beast, or the taunt skin around the ribs that made her choke; it was the head.

Long and conical, it gave off the immediate impression of a leech. Beady eyes stared lifelessly into the sky, and the face elongated into a circular mouth opening with rows of small, sharp teeth, and a long, purple tongue lolling lifelessly from the lips. If the spines along the back and the thin form hadn't told her what it was, the head did. And the appearance of a leech was completely appropriate.

It was a Hunger. On rare occasions during her mercenary work in Morrowind Siena had come upon these demonic Daedra, summoned by bored warlocks or fool-hardy magicians. They were reputed to embrace their victims in those arms, which were longer than proportionally proper for the body size, as they pressed their leech-lips to the victim's face and took the life from their bodies. They were thin, fast, terribly strong, and their spiny tails a force to be reckoned with. But this one was smaller than others she remembered; it must have been starved for some time.

Still… the prospect of Hungers in this realm made Siena very uneasy. And now, with that single fight before these Mazken, Sheogorath's guards had an idea of her fighting style, while she was still clueless about theirs.

_Great… this just gets better and better._


	18. Chapter 18: The Crucible of the Sick

Chapter 18: The Crucible of the Sick

The rest of the trip back to the Shivering Isles' version of civilization was rather uneventful for Siena. The only point of interest was when the two Mazken stopped and began a search of a roadside campsite. It was a three walled shack with a bed roll, table, and a chest, but the entire shack was leaning south a noticeable degree, sinking one corner into the marsh. The Mazken had seemed intent on searching the abandoned camp for some sort of occupant; something about Heretics.

Siena was honestly more interested in what items might exist in this semi-fresh campsite. Maybe a shirt mildly untouched by the swamp; the chains of her cuirass were beginning to agitate her bare navel after all. She was just glad the cuirass lacked sleeves and she was wearing a brassiere, else wearing such armor in this constant grime and heat would have been difficult to bear.

Alas, she had found no shirt, gloves, or any sort of clothing in the campsite. But she had found a leather belt with a hip pack, as well as gold and a third lockpick to add to her collection. Peeling off the Grummite belt from her waist, she slipped on the new belt, and proceeded to empty her previously bulging pockets into the hip pack. The lockpick slipped into her left boot, joining Belmyne's dagger rather than joining the other two picks in her right boot. Slowly but surely, Siena was regaining her supplies from **before** she'd ended up in this wretched place.

It didn't take long after the campsite incident, however, for Siena to see a stone wall looming above her from atop a plateau. It reminded her of the Imperial forts back in Morrowind, standing tall with battlements. Only this wall lacked battlements, from what she could see. She walked with the Mazken down the stone path, which ran alongside the plateau, until they came to a fork. The right way was a wooden bridge crossing a small river, leading into more marshland and overshadowed by an overarching, winding root as thick as Siena's torso. The Mazken turned left, and Siena followed without question.

This path came to a bend, the outer edge of which was lined by a chest height stone wall of the same material as the larger one. Over this wall, was the first appealing natural scenery Siena had yet to see in Dementia. A series of waterfalls came down from a high cliff in a stair fashion, crashing onto outcrops of rock before cascading down again, branching into more waterfalls before all gathering in a single pond, the mouth of the marshland river. The large mushroom trees and leafy trees around the scene just made it seem more like a scene from the Bitter Coast and West Gash of Vvardenfell, causing Siena to temporarily forget just where she was.

"Welcome to Crucible." The echoing, surreal voice of the Mazken broke through to Siena, dispelling the dream-like state she was in. The Dunmer turned towards the Mazken, looking beyond the purple skinned women to the archway of stone she had motioned to.

Within the archway was a massive set of wooden double doors. Metal rings hung from the closed jaws of faces that could best be described as part Grummite, part lion. Coming from the side of each door were two lines that reached towards the center of the door, before curving towards each other and upwards, crisscrossing in elegant loops. The bottom of the door was covered by a strip of metal, and engraved with images of creatures Siena could not readily identify. It was all rather… fancily fashioned for a realm of demented beings.

"Who is this?" The echoing Mazken voice came not from her two escorts, but a third violet warrior. She was also an archer, and stood guard before the wooden gates with arms at her sides. It was the warrior –Kiskedrig- who answered for Siena.

"An amnesic Blessed, who was found in a root cavern, captured by Grummites." Kiskedrig proclaimed, and Siena grit her teeth. _Let them think you 'Blessed', __Siena__. Let them think you Blessed. You'll get what you want that way._

"Very well. Madgod's blessings, citizen." The guardwoman told Siena, stepping aside so that she could open the doors.

Siena didn't really know what to expect, exactly, from the capital city of the Daedric Lord of Madness. So far as she had known, Daedra Lords didn't even have capital cities within their realms. What would a city of a wicked god –of insanity no less- be like? Majestic, wild, untamed and random in architecture perhaps? Siena really couldn't be sure.

But one thing was certain to the stray Hlaalu agent; Crucible was **not** what she was expecting. The gates opened up into a small courtyard that was circular, and lit by torches that burned an ominous white-blue from the gullet of sculptures that might have been snake heads, fangs reaching for the afternoon sky. The center of the courtyard was a circular garden of long, conical fungi and umbrella cap mushrooms, dominated by a grimy marble statue. A squared pedestal, reaching up beyond Siena's head, with each corner ordained with sculptured arms, reaching with desperation for the top. Atop the pedestal was a throne, sat upon by a robed man who looked almost holy, sporting a chest-length beard. His feet rested upon the head of a serpent, whose body was zigzagged down to the base of the statue. The tail encircled a small carving of the man upon the throne. The other three sides, as Siena moved around it, held those serpent-head torches.

Moving around the statue also gave her a new vantage point of the courtyard. It lead off into three forks; left, right, and straight ahead. The nearest path was to her left, so Siena strode that way.

If the courtyard had not fit her expectations, this path most certainly failed as well. Siena was forced to pinch her nose as a horrid stench assaulted her senses. It came from the sewage, which cut a path like a gentle river through the cobblestone street, pooling on either side of a small gap bridged by two old boards of wood. Ahead of her, the street stopped at a wall. A wide wooden ramp lead up to the raised street beyond that, but from the wall came the source of the putrid liquid, a sewer grate. There were stone buildings on the raised street, but Siena gave the bubbly mass of feces and rotting plant matter one look before deciding the buildings did not matter.

Seeing as the 'pond' of sewage went beyond the archway, she reasoned the center path likewise contaminated and went straight for the right pathway instead. What she found was a dead end wall, from which more sewage poured out. Somehow, a tree and more conical fungi were growing along this shore, a mockery of a lovely landscape piece.

Siena prayed that the center path would be more reasonable to her, and slowly meandered over. Her prayers were half answered. Beyond the center arch was more sewage pooling along the sides of a stone walkway, that lead to a series of staircases and myriad assembly of buildings. Stepping carefully through the archway, Siena briefly considered removing her fur boots, lest she end up stepping in the stewing waste.

"Blessings, citizen." Siena nearly jumped out of her skin at the echoing voice of the Mazken guard, turning and almost drawing her weapon before acknowledging there was no threat at all. The guard scowled and looked away from Siena, who embarrassedly moved on down the path.

The architecture might have been beautiful in a different setting, Siena noted as she walked up the first set of stairs and wandered around a large sewage puddle. It was a mixture of wood roofing and stone masonry. The exterior walls had arches engaged in them that rose to a point, framing similarly pointed arched windows. The buildings had porches facing the street that were roofed in wood and held up by thin columns of stone supporting pointed arches.

If not for the fact that the stone was deeply engrained with dirt and grime, the masonry might have looked well-crafted. If not for the windows being fogged yellow by dirt and dust, they might have added a spacious, well lit air to the area. If not for the growing tentacles of tree trunks, thick vines hanging from the building roofs, and sprouts of fungi amidst the sewage puddles, the scenery of the area might have been enchanting.

Siena moved up a second flight of stairs, thinner than the first as it flanked a large moss-covered boulder. That led to the third flight of stairs, and Siena looked up to read the sign hanging over it.

"Sickly Bernice's Taphouse." Siena read aloud, frowning. "Such a lovely name." _As if the carving of a Hunger holding the sign to the wall wasn't charming enough._ Reading the sign brought an irreversible reaction, however. The silence of the street was broken by the rumble of her stomach.

An understandable reaction to the thought of food, though considering her circumstances one had to admire the constitution of her stomach. But as she held her gullet she recalled that she hadn't eaten since leaving Passwall. Battling a giant animated blob of flesh, murderous trees, and escaping the imprisonment of weapon wielding frogs while wounded would work up an appetite in anyone. And whatever was in that taphouse had to be better than eating something from the scarce supply of moldy, rotted barrels on the street.

Moving up the stairs and taking an immediate right turn, Siena ignored the small puddle of sewage near the entrance, and the layout of the plaza the taphouse faced. The only thing she took notice of was the handle of the door; it was engraved with what looked, eerily, to be a set of eyes. The door was promptly opened without a chance to dwell on this, and closed just as quickly as she passed through.

The taphouse was dimly lit by candlelight, and short stairs led down from the doorway to a sizable lobby area. Stairs to her left led up to further floors, and steps directly ahead led down to the dinning area. Siena was pleased to note that –while there was a stench- the taphouse smelled better than the streets. She walked through the stone lobby, her fur boots making not a sound on the old, ragged circular carpet.

She passed by a stone statue in the right corner that made her pause with wonder. It was the torso and head of a man; a rather well toned man, leaning his head back in what could have been reverence or ecstasy. She couldn't tell, but Siena quickly decided the muscled statue to be the only thing in Crucible she liked so far._ Which isn't saying much, the sculptor missed a few key details._ She mused, moving on with a shake of her head.

Moving down the steps to the dinning area, Siena quickly noted that the only wood materials were the ceiling and support arches, and two large brew barrels in the far corner. The two tables, service counter, and cabinets that furnished the room were made of stone. Even the chairs and bench were sculpted from grey stone.

It all combined with the odor, dim candlelight, and grimy window ambience to give the taphouse a desolate, hopeless, melancholy feel. _Bet the food's wonderful._ Siena rolled her eyes cynically, and headed over to the counter, placing her ashen grey hands on the stone surface.

"Hello." A droopy, pale-faced woman greeted her, folding her hands over her stomach politely. She was dressed in an elegant crimson dress that looked similar to Relmyna's; a deep cut neck line, feathery frills at the wrists of the sleeves, flared hip that seemed to support itself, and golden embroidery. Very elegant, for a woman working in such a dismal place. And in rather bad condition, Siena noted, eying the stains here and there.

"Sickly Bernice, proprietor. Don't get too close now." She warned Siena, taking a small step away from the counter. Her hand moved up to her mouth, covering it as she gave shallow, strained coughs. "You might catch what I have." She explained when she recovered.

"Catch what?" Siena raised one eyebrow, but respectfully stepped back from the counter. Bernice returned to her side of the stone slab. "What's the matter?"

"Well…" Bernice began, drawing in a wheezy breath. "It seems I am dying." Her voice strained. "Yes, these may be my last days in the Shivering Isles."

"You'd think that a good thing." Siena muttered, not moved by the so far dubious display by the proprietor. She crossed her arms over her cuirass.

"That is," Bernice perked up a little, "unless someone like yourself could help me find the cure. But no one has taken me up on my offer," Bernice sighed, "even with the promise of a reward." _I wonder why._ Siena didn't really wonder, though. It took some hardy self-control to keep her eyes from rolling.

"Ah well." Bernice sighed deeper. "It's been a good life, I suppose…" Siena pretended hard to look sorry for the woman. It backfired.

"Are you willing to help me?" Bernice suddenly asked, hopeful. Siena's stomach groaned.

"I-"

"Oh thank you so much!" She hoarsely burst out, a smile finally coming to her face. Siena mentally groaned in tandem with her stomach. "There's only one place in all the Isles to get the cure for what I have… Knotty Bramble." Bernice sniffled, before holding out one hand. "I'll mark it on your map."

"Um… yeah, that'd be helpful." Siena replied softly, slowly giving up hope. Still determined, she removed her map from the hip pack she'd found at the abandoned camp shack earlier, and laid it out for Bernice.

"There, on the lowest level of the place, is a pool containing the cure: aquanostrum." Bernice explained in a straining voice as she inked a quill and searched the map. "Legend has it that it bubbles up from around an old statue." Bernice found the place, marked it with a cross, and lifted the quill just in time, as she began another short bout of hoarse coughing. Siena swiftly snatched the map back, shaking it to dry the ink.

"Bring me back the remedy, and I will reward you well." Bernice's voice had gotten worse now, like she was about to lose it. Siena folded the map, not even looking at the new marking. "Here, take this special flask to collect the aquanostrum." She handed Siena a dirty, clouded empty flask. Siena took it, eyes wide. _Someone drank outta this thing? Or even would?_ Regardless, she added it with the map in her hip pack.

"Just… what is this aquanostrum supposed to be, anyways?" Siena asked, out of curiosity and in the hopes that entertaining the woman's illusion might allow her to get closer to her own goal, like she had with Nanette.

"Oh yes… It's the miracle remedy for any disease!" Bernice beamed. "I was told about this wonderful solution by a recent patron of my establishment. He said if I let him stay for free, he'd tell me how to cure my sickness! How fortuitous!"

"Riiight…" Siena couldn't help it; her eyes rolled.

"Apparently it only exists at the bottom of Knotty Bramble… Ah well. So close, yet so far." Bernice grew distant.

Siena had quiet enough of this, and slapped both her hands on the counter, snapping Bernice to attentiveness. "Listen! I'll get you your cure, but first I'm going to need a meal and somewhere to sleep. Give me whatever you cook here that is slightly decent." There was a collection of gold coins below one hand, part of her treasure from the Grummite kidnapping.

Bernice smiled, taking the gold as Siena went to one of the tables and slung off the dark and dirty quiver of Grummite stone arrows from her back, resting it beside the chair. She sat down with an audible sigh as Bernice came and poured ale into the tin cup on the table.

While Bernice went off to cook the meal, Siena eyed the cup wearily, reached for it, gently raised it, and sniffed the liquid. She gagged slightly, pulling her head back. _The water is likely not much better._ That thought in mind, she swilled it down, strained a swallow, and found herself rewarded with the arrival of food.

Bernice stood beside the table with a small smile as Siena looked at the plate. One hand slowly crept to her face, a finger gently lowering the arm of her glasses so she could see over them while she leaned over the plate. The ham was a dark reddish brown. Sure, it was cooked, but apparently no one had thought to drain the meat of blood before cooking it. A small pool of the cooked blood lined the bottom of the plate, soaking the rice and carrots.

It was a blessing the bread was placed on top of the rice, freed from being soaked with the blood. Siena side-glanced Bernice, noting she was still watching. Sighing again, she picked up the fork, looking at it with concealed malice.

_I hate Crucible._


	19. Chapter 19: Mysterious Denizens

Chapter 19: Mysterious Denizens

The room was lackluster, but then again, Siena didn't expect anything better. One look at the drab dresser of old wood and dirty mattress, and her mind was set. She was sleeping on the cold stone floor instead, with only a dusty, dingy rug for comfort. Her equipment was spread out on the floor around her in a strategic array.

And it was this strategic array that Siena now sat in the middle of, inspecting her arsenal. She had a set of three lockpicks now, and one of them looked ready to break. Only two of the stone, jagged spearhead daggers remained in her arsenal, but Siena actually was glad they were. Inspecting them now, and thinking about how they had served her so far, she found them reliable and multipurpose. Decent for throwing, reliable for damaging stabs, and hard to break; but best of all the stone daggers needed next to no maintenance. Which was good since Siena was terrible with blade upkeep. Siena had no intention of using Belmyne's dagger for the same reason, but also because of the sentimental value.

As Siena held the iron dagger in her hand, the last possession of her beloved, a familiar masculine voice spoke up from the bed behind her. "I think you might need better weaponry if you plan on forcing your wishes on this Mad God, my dear."

"Yeah, I guess I will." Siena instinctively responded to Belmyne's voice, not turning her head but slowly lowering his dagger to the floor. Her head turned to the poorly conditioned quiver holding the bone arrows of the Grummites. She didn't even have a bow to use them with, but they were in terrible condition regardless. She was lucky they got her through that cavern.

"But I don't even know if they have a smith around here." Siena remarked, looking over her shoulder to her love, brushing aside wild strands of her dark blue hair. She gazed at him through her shaded glasses, relishing his handsomely angular face.

"Siena, darling… No matter how unusual this place is, I'm guaranteeing you they have a smith, somewhere. No city is complete without one. Someone has to forge the window framings." Belmyne joked, laughing as he sat cross-legged on her bed, hands in his lap. "You'll just have to ask around, that's all." He shrugged.

Siena loved his laugh, and it brought a small, warm smile to her face. She turned away to look back at her assembly. With a steady, professional air she began to place her weaponry where it belonged; Belmyne's dagger in her boot along with the lockpicks in both boots, and the Grummite daggers along her belt. She rose from the floor, slinging the quiver over her shoulder and just about to head for the door when she stopped.

"Would you believe I almost walked out without-" She turned as she giggled to face the bed -and Belmyne- only to stop. Her smile faltered; Belmyne was gone. "Kissing you goodbye…" Siena whispered, voice fading. Just as tears began to well in her eyes, she whirled around and left the room with a slam of the door.

_Why does he have to torment me? Why can't his spirit stay a little longer, instead of coming and going like the dawn?_ Siena fumed, distraught by such a short visit from his spirit. While ancestral spirits were reputed to visit and aid from time to time… Belmyne's visits were far more sentimental, and always brought her back to the harsh reality of his death.

And reminded her of Belmyne's insanity, the terrible fate he suffered at Sheogorath's hands. It expanded her anger, resulting in her feet stomping down the steps of Sickly Bernice's Taphouse. She was going to find that smith and get the weapons she needed, even if it meant talking to more lunatics.

When Bernice looked over to the pounding noise of the Dunmer maiden with a crest-fallen expression, Siena looked only briefly back from the foot of the stairs, unsympathetic to the woman's 'plight'. _I can't deal with her right now…_ she concluded, moving to the door with naught but a nod to the proprietor.

Siena had woken up purely because her body refused to slumber in such a condition much longer, and the interior of the inn had not changed light intensity much from before, so it was with reasonable surprise that Siena greeted the blinding daylight. Squinting despite her shaded lenses, she waited until her eyes adjusted, and then stepped outside, shutting the door behind her.

Having ignored the layout of the plaza the night before, Siena took her time to note it now, as she stood on the doorstone of the inn before a puddle of muck. To her immediate right was a staircase of grimy stone, turning to the left to an unseen destination. To her left, across the plaza, was a small arched alleyway, which she had no intention of going through in this city. Directly across from her, and across from a large puddle of sewage dominating the center of the plaza, was a door to someplace. There was another door to another building across from the right stairs, and next to that was a staircase not unlike the three she climbed previously. Figuring that to be the best route, she stepped around the puddle of disgrace and headed forward.

Maybe it was the grim, grisly state of the city that made her feel such a way, or perhaps the desolate atmosphere of last night, but Siena was honestly startled when a Khajiit approached her quickly from the turning staircase, poised like a beggar. She had reflexively put her hand towards her waist, and the feline's golden eyes fearfully noted such.

"Your lips to His ears." The Khajiit murmured with ears laid back, as if that was somehow a submissive greeting.

"Um… sure, I guess…" She replied, stepping back with an unwilling, get-away attitude, only to trip over a furry form. She briefly saw the Khajiit run as she fell, landing hard on unyielding stone. The creature she tripped over was a wolf, which was barking and wagging his tail at her. Confused, Siena picked herself up, hesitantly petting the creature.

Strangely, just the simple action of caressing the scruffy fur of the beast brought her comfort. While not well kept and bristly beneath her ungloved hands, the gentle panting of his breathing and delight the creature seemed to gain from her attentions soothed her anger from the morning, clearing her head and calming her heart. She had no idea why, as this was the first time she'd ever encountered a tame canine; her brief visit in Cyrodiil introduced her to the animal, and the meeting had not been friendly.

Siena sighed, getting to her feet now. She even missed Cyrodiil, a land she barely knew. _At least Cyrodiil looked better in the daylight._ She reasoned with herself, heading for the stairs she had first sought. _This place still looks like a Silt Strider's dung pot._ Dwelling on the exact appearance of a Silt Strider's dung pot as she headed for the stairs, she failed to realize the approach of an Orc until it was too late, and she walked into him.

"Ew." The Orc snorted as he violently shoved her away. "You smell worse than that cat, Bhisha. Get away from me!" Siena complied, remaining against the wall he'd shoved her into and glaring at him as he passed.

"Rude rot-skinned n'wah." She muttered, noting with grim sorrow the wolf followed the Orc beyond the plaza. _Is there **anything** purely pleasant about this place?_ She lamented, continuing her exploration.

Passing a pillar entangled with thick vines, Siena passed under a root that arched over the street's berth before plunging into the ground. Just beyond the thigh-thick root was another stone Hunger, holding the side of a sign against its chest.

"Earil's Mysteries." Siena read aloud, noting the slightly appealing blue floral pattern on the sign's edges, conflicting with the Hunger sculpture. It seemed terribly out of place on a sign in Crucible, and therefore held true to the name it bore. However, the title seemed more appropriate for a magical shop than a smithy.

_Against a Daedric Prince… yeah, my magical skills will be quite useful._ Siena mused sardonically, continuing on up the street. Just after the shop the street split into two stairwells, the right path raised a few feet above the left. The left path consisted of three stairwells and a wooden door framed by stone sculpting she couldn't discern from here, while the right branched off into more stairs, but otherwise led the same way. So Siena went up the elevated stairwell, hoping to avoid sewage puddles.

Luckily for her, there were none on the slabs of stone, since her eyes were glued on the gateway ahead as she approached. It had to be the finishing touch to the city architect's work; a demented architect, to be sure. It was a face, of sorts, rising from the half-circle dais of steps that led to the doors. But it was a grotesque visage she had no comparison for. There were large eyes on either side of the door archway, staring out into Crucible, and jaw lines along the sides of the face. But the prominent facial feature was the mouth, which was tall and had erratically jutting sets of twisted, fang-like teeth all along its edge.

And a yard deep into those jaws were the wooden doors, sporting similar metal rings to the entrance to the city, and trident crowns of stained wood engraving above and below them. It would have been very beautiful craftsmanship, if it were not housed within the throat of a demonic face. All of this was erupting from a stone wall within an arch, giving it the feel of a demonic face emerging from some sort of portal. Siena approached the steps leading to the doors, only to jolt when they opened.

A female Khajiit emerged from the maw of the beast, closing the door quickly behind her and with maybe a hint of disgust. Siena did not get to see what was beyond. The khajiit was dressed in a dark crimson dress with a violet skirt that looked awfully similar to the one worn by Bernice, which had looked like Relmyna's. _Is there any variety besides color in their clothes?_ She briefly wondered before the Khajiit spoke.

"So much to gather, so little time." The cat brooded, and then sighed, seeming to be muttering to herself. When she looked up and noticed Siena, there was no flicker of surprise on her face that Siena could read; just more brooding.

"Perhaps you can help?" There seemed a glimmer of hope in her purr, but mentally Siena groaned. _Not another Bernice…_ "You might help against the coming storm."

"The 'coming storm'?" Siena repeated, briefly curious. It was certainly more interesting than that hideous doorway. She looked at the sky, which was clear –by Dementia's standards anyways, since the sky had been gloomy the entire time she'd inhabited it- and turned back to the Khajiit. "Everything looks fine to me." The moment she uttered those words it dawned on her that weather may work differently in the Shivering Isles.

"It's coming." The Khajiit insisted. "I think I'm the only one who sees it, though. And I'm going to be ready." She sounded proud, and Siena barely held back a snort. "Oh yes, I'll be ready."

"Ready?" Siena interjected, already beginning to doubt the whole story since 'I think I'm the only one…' but playing along anyways. She'd begun to understand that playing to their fantasies gave her better opportunity to get what she actually wanted from them.

"That's right." The Khajiit nodded with pride in her golden eyes. "I've been stockpiling supplies. Things I'll need to ride it out…" The Khajiit paused ominously, her voice quieting. "Or survive when they come for me."

"Riiight…" Siena nodded her head slowly, doubting the Khajiit even more. But maybe, just maybe, that ridiculous last remark could be utilized to her advantage. "So, concerning these supplies, might you be missing some weapons to survive 'when they come for you', perhaps?" Siena repeated the statement with controlled propriety; the feline was clearly paranoid, but Siena didn't want her realizing the Dunmer's opinion of her.

"I've been gathering things for quite a while, but yes, there are still a few I am missing." The cat sighed solemnly, and then looked Siena in the eye with a spark of hope once more. "Perhaps you'd bring them to me?"

_Oh no… It **is** another Bernice._ Siena cringed, a tinge of her emotion coming across her face before she could stop it. Why did everyone insist on her aiding and abetting their insanity? But if it got her directions to the blacksmith… "I suppose I could." Siena shrugged sheepishly. "But, I don't know what to look for."

The Khajiit was quick to correct this issue. "I still need the Amulet of Disintegration, Ring of Desiccation, and, of course, the Calming Pants." Siena raised a skeptical eyebrow. The Khajiit female's voice took on a guttural growl of emphasis. "**Must have the Calming Pants.**" Siena nodded her acknowledgement, not trusting her speech at this very moment. Part of her wanted to burst out laughing, and part of her wanted to shove this woman against the wall and demand control of the conversation.

"Bring these to me, and I will reward you well." The Khajiit continued, oblivious to Siena's internal struggle. The mention of a reward caught her attention though. A reward could lead to better food and lodging than the Sickly Bernice, if such a thing did exist. "Ahjazda has many, many things." The Khajiit smiled.

"I will see what I can do." Siena smiled back, before turning sharply to her left towards a very wide stone stairway and continuing her search unaided with a lengthy sigh. The Khajiit, Ahjazda, had been no help at all. And while she found her paranoia slightly funny, as she turned the corner of a building to find herself looking upon wooden ramps and walkways and ledges of stone and mud she just got annoyed. _Where in Oblivion –Now that's a funnily ironic curse to use around here- is this blacksmith?_

As Siena moved towards the two wooden ramps, a Bosmer in sack clothes –which to Siena now seemed perfectly acceptable, being something reminiscent of Mundus- addressed her with a merchant air, standing next to a chest high wooden railing. At least, chest high by **his** standards anyways; it came up more to Siena's hips.

"Wanna buy a stick?" the Bosmer asked, waving a fine specimen of tinder in front of himself. "I gotta fresh one right here."

Siena walked up to him silently, obvious annoyance fighting with calmness for control of her visage. Once he was within a forearm's length, she swiftly planted her palm in his smiling face, and shoved him head-first over the wall. He tumbled over and landed with a splash, Siena following with a much more graceful leap to the ledge beneath her, on the shoreline of the sewage stream.

The Bosmer had landed in front of the sewer pipe grating Siena had seen when first entering Crucible, back submerged in sludge and legs over his head. Slowly those little legs descended, to be replaced by Siena's own boot on his chest, pinning him to the pool of muck. A flash of fear cowered behind his smile.

"No?" Siena's head shook in response. "Then what can I do for ya?" The question came out somewhat pleadingly, and Siena shook her head again. _By the time I find that blacksmith, I may be the one needing Calming Pants._


	20. Chapter 20: Cutter of Madness

_**Author's Note:** I know this chapter is shorter than the others, but it had a good ending were it did. I took great delight in fleshing out Cutter's character, she made a very good subject for it. The next chapter will be longer, I assure you. _

* * *

Chapter 20: Cutter of Madness

The Bosmer was remarkably helpful, ironically, giving her directions so precise he might as well be a tour guide. They were also so short it made her feel like an imbecile. Apparently, she wasn't far from her destination when her patience ran out.

So, feeling guilty for having assaulted the diminutive elf, Siena bought one of his sticks, handing over a piece of the gold she'd confiscated from the Grummites. The look of pure delight on the Bosmer's face looked out of place in Crucible, but cheered Siena nonetheless. _That's one good thing in Crucible. If only one. _

She was merely a jump down from the next ledge, first stair on the left, down the small colonnade, with the door on the left, away from her destination. She was careful to wait until she was out of the Woodelf's sight to discard the stick. She didn't want to sadden the one person in Crucible with a genuine, untainted smile. Her own small grin at this discovery collapsed when she realized the door was right next to the very street she had walked along, when she had been so enraptured by that hideous door. _Typical. _

'Cutter's Weapons' read the Hunger-held sign that ran parallel with a wall. Of course, it would have been far too sensible for it to have stuck out in the street like all the others. Breathing deeply and collecting herself, Siena finally entered the blacksmith shop.

There was a stone ledger table to her right, complete with a scroll box and quills, and bookcase behind it. To her left were two windows of clear cleaned glass holding something, with a table and chair between them. The forge, and its master, were on the other side of the room. All of it was lit with a ring of those snake-head torches from outside, only these burned with proper colored flames. Even though two arched windows were present on the wall to her right, their dingy yellowed glass kept the sunlight at bay and left only the flickering fires for lighting.

As Siena closed the door behind her and approached the steps leading to the forge landing, a sharp tang reached her nose, a scent she had not yet dealt with in Crucible. She looked down and grimaced. Pools of blood stained the cobblestone floor, some fresher –or larger- than others. More blood was on the wooden workbench next to one of the windows.

"I have the sharpest blades." A female voice whispered into Siena's left ear. It was soft, sensuous, drawing the syllables of each word out with a slow deliberateness that made her think of a torturer holding onto the wicked suspense as he prepares his equipment. It made a chill creep up her spine that momentarily froze her.

Siena felt a soft pressure along her lower back, ringing gently against the chainmail. She whirled, bringing one of the stone daggers up to hold against the attacker's throat.

But it wasn't to be, as the woman in question stepped back with a sinister grin, holding an iron dagger at Siena and her other arm bent before her as if to protect herself. She moved like her voice as they circled each other, stopping when the woman's feet were in the puddle of blood. She was clothed very plainly, in a ragged skirt and a patchwork leather shirt that covered up to her elbows, revealing many scars and fresh cuts on her pale forearms. She was a thin Bosmeri woman with jet black hair and angular face, with sunken cheeks. Her thin red lips and black eye shadow gave her visage a creepy, murderous look.

"What have you done with the blacksmith?" Siena demanded, keeping the dagger pointed at the elf.

"I am the blacksmith." The Bosmer replied softer than before, barely a whisper, still grinning. "I test them out on myself before I put them on sale." She explained with a hint of delight. Siena held her ground, not even balking. That did explain the scars, and the blood.

"They call me Cutter." Cutter emphasized her name, seeming to take great delight in it. "I can sharpen any blade you give me, until it can cut through flesh like warm, soft butter." An eerie glaze came over her eyes that sent another chill down Siena's spine. The smith recovered from her fighting stance, holding up her dagger like one might a finger when making a point.

"But for a truly inspired blade, I can forge Madness Ore!" Even as her voice rose the highest yet, it still sounded soft. She walked over to the ledger table, opening the scroll box to remove a parchment. "Here. Hold onto this parchment. It lists what I need."

_This… could be useful._ Siena thought as she cautiously took the parchment, looking it over while Cutter began to absently spin her dagger. "Ok… What is Madness Ore?"

"Spirits of ancient souls are trapped in the ore." Cutter stated with an almost lustful tone. "Find it in old ruins. Also, Grummites are especially attracted to it."

"Oh!" Recognition dawned on Siena, and she pulled the two conical, ebony spikes of mineral out of her belt pouch. "Is this it?"

"Yes," Cutter hissed the words with desire plain upon her face, taking the heavy ore from Siena and holding it like one would a child. There was a flash of hunger in her eyes. "It's a supple and flexible ore. Yet it holds a good edge. I can shape the sharpest of blades from it." She looked to Siena now with a less sinister, giddier smirk. But she still had the look of a viper to her. "I can also create magical items."

_Magical items? That could be useful against Sheogorath._ "How?" Siena asked curtly.

"Tradition dictates that before each master smith dies, she hides these magical molds in the world." Cutter told her, bringing the iron dagger to her left hand. She sliced deftly across her palm, leaving a thin line of crimson. "Like pouring salt into a wound." She purred. Siena failed to see the similarities, but watched with derision, transfixed on the blood dripping from the open palm.

"Over time they soak in magical energies from the world around them." Cutter looked at the Dunmer, a wicked smirk crossing her face once more, delighting in Siena's repulsion. "Like you suck blood from a cut." She put more emphasis than Siena thought necessary on 'suck', raising her palm to her face and giving it a slow, lecherous lick.

"Bring me a matrix and enough Ore, and I will forge you a new item and bleed-" Cutter closed her fist, letting the swelling blood drip onto the floor, "-the magic of the matrix into it." Cutter glanced at Siena, relishing in her reaction.

Siena watched the blood drip, her own blood red eyes catching the reflection in the firelight through her glasses. This woman suddenly reminded her of Relmyna, causing her to shudder. She shook the thought harshly from her mind. Cutter had one redeeming quality; she hadn't threatened Siena yet.

"What shall I forge for you?" Cutter asked, snapping Siena from her broodings. She looked quickly at the parchment, and noted with some satisfaction that bows could be made from Madness Ore as well, and with two pieces no less!

"I need a bow. And some decent arrows." Siena added, remembering the crap hanging off her back.

"I can make a bow from these two. But arrows would require a third. I do have some steel arrows available." Cutter answered. "They are very sharp."

"I bet they are… How long will it take to make the bow?" Siena changed the subject quickly. She had about enough masochistic talk for one day.

"Oh, only a half a day or so. I can get to work right now, and have it ready to string by nightfall." Cutter picked up the Madness Ore pieces again, staring at them lovingly. "I do delicate things with Madness Ore." She purred. "It tingles across the flesh when it cuts."

"Okay… Well then, I will be back to pick it up when you are finished." Siena began to step back slowly, eager to escape now that the business was complete.

"Do leave your quiver of arrows when you go. I will replace them with steel. In exchange for the chance to test their sharpness." Cutter remarked listlessly, sauntering over to the forge with the Madness Ore cradled in her arms. "I long to feel the bite of a Grummite edge." She cooed.

Siena was all too happy to oblige.


	21. Chapter 21: Ignorance in Bliss

**_Author's Note: _**_This chapter also took some artistic liberties on the smith, but I am likewise pleased with how he turned out. Soon, we will be meeting the Daedra Lord himself, won't that be fun? Don't be afraid to review. _

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Chapter 21: Ignorance in Bliss

Siena was relieved to finally make an exit from that blacksmith shop while keeping relatively cut-free. While she had no doubt the Bosmeri smith, Cutter, would be able to make her some fine weaponry, her obsessions were off-putting. And from her armor selections, she also appeared to specialize in the more weighty armors, which was not what Siena needed. She needed light, flexible armor.

But it had taken her **forever** to find this smith. Where could she possibly find another one?

"Wait a second," Siena mumbled to herself, pulling the folded up map from her hip pack that Haskill had given her. She recalled him saying that New Sheoth was split into two districts; according to the map, the other district, 'Bliss', was north of Crucible. Based on the sun position, Siena guessed north to be through that disgustingly decorated door she'd seen earlier, which was conveniently located on her left further up the stairs.

As she made her way to the door, it dawned on her that the sun may be entirely different in this realm, and could set in the east and rise in the west. Or rise and set on the north/south axis. Or even rise in the southeast and set in the northeast. She paused at the dais, contemplating.

_You know what, forget it! I don't give a damn anymore. Might as well try the door anyways._ Siena concluded, marching up the steps and throwing open the doors.

* * *

Siena's mouth hung open for a moment as she took in the sheer **color** of the place. The rocks in front of her as she stood in the door were a brighter green than those in Crucible, and sprouting from them were grey-stemmed fungi that bent and curved but still stood well above her head, fanning out into aqua blue cups the size of large bowls. The only grey in the area was the stone steps on her sides and straight ahead, and the foundations of the buildings. Even the ground, while cobbled with grey stones, had color as peach-orange dirt surrounded every stone.

While the intensity of sunlight had not changed, the scenery around her had become brighter due to the drastic change in colors from Crucible to what she felt must certainly be Bliss. _Maybe there is actually, truly, something nice in this realm!_ It was quite likely that, had she encountered the lands of Mania first, she would not have been this uplifted by the environment. But after Dementia and Crucible's eternal dreariness, she was elated to find some cheer in the realm.

"Speak, citizen, or go away," an abrupt, stern voice spoke from her right, startling Siena. She whirled to face it, only to gulp. She was staring directly into unnatural eyes that had golden, feline irises and black where there should have been white.

The woman who spoke was as golden as her eyes, from skin to armor to weaponry, and glimmered in the sunlight. She was dressed as scantly as the Mazken, but her armor was distinctly different. It had a more avian theme, with the skirt wrapping around her hips like wings. Her helmet also had wings sprouting up from the ears with an almost beak-like forehead guard, and her shoulder plates were elegant teardrop shaped plates of gold. The overall affect was far more dazzling than the Mazken's black shell armor, and notably more elegantly decorated.

When she had taken in the strange woman's appearance, and realized the golden girl was scowling at her, it finally dawned on the Hlaalu mercenary just what she was speaking with. While Siena had nothing to compare the Mazken with, this golden figure before her was almost the spitting image of the dreaded Daedric servants of Sheogorath.

"A Golden Saint…" She gasped, one hand moving slowly towards her belt. She had always heard they were ruthless, fierce warriors, resistant to most magic and weaponry and zealous in the pursuit of their enemies.

"Yes, that is what mortals call us," the Golden Saint responded, still scowling. Her voice was like the Mazken's; echoing with every word spoken. However, while the Mazken had a softer, whispery tone to their voices, the Golden Saint's voice was strong and loud. "But we call ourselves the Aureal, and we are Sheogorath's favored soldiers, the most perfect expression of his might."

"Um, okay, sure," Siena nodded, noting how the Aureal was much more prideful than the Mazken when describing her relation to Sheogorath. "So this is Bliss?"

"Yes, and we Aureal guard Bliss, the Manic district of the city. We are also tasked with defending Mania from the lesser beings that would seek to destroy it." As she said this, the Aureal narrowed her eyes at Siena accusingly. "Now be gone, mortal. I haven't time for your idle chatter."

"Okay… um, thanks, I'll keep that in mind." Deciding she didn't want to risk angering the Daedra further, Siena headed for the staircase directly in front of the Golden Saint, ignoring the one on her right. In her mind, she concluded that of the two, she liked the Mazken far more than the Aureal. At least the Mazken put up with a mortal's presence.

She wasn't really paying much attention to where she was headed; not like she had directions anyways. She just kept walking forward, past purple umbrella-topped mushrooms and luminescent bulbous orange flora, admiring the architecture. It wasn't too dissimilar from Crucible, still sporting arches and columns, but these were less intricate and moody compared to the Crucible masonry, with simple rounded arches and squared columns. Some of the doors were of similar jade-colored design to those in Crucible, but were far cleaner. Everything just seemed to be cheerier, cleaner, and less complex in design.

She was finally forced to turn left because the stairs turned that way, and found herself entering a plaza. Directly across from her, she felt the eyes of the Aureal standing guard beside an unhitched cart. Behind the Golden Saint was a small courtyard with a majestic fountain in the middle, water cascading from sea shells between and over half woman, half fish figures that she recognized as mermaids from the Cyrodiilic lore she had studied briefly before her ill-fated trip. Elegant oval signs, held to the sides of the buildings by swirling rods of metal, indicated the shops around her. To her right, 'The Choosy Beggar'; this sounded like an inn to her. Beside the unhitched cart and unpleasant Aureal, an arch-bordered patio led to another shop whose sign she couldn't read. And to Siena's left, stone steps led up to a wooden door with a sign reading 'The Missing Pauldron'.

"If that isn't a blacksmith shop, call me a Grummite," Siena muttered, heading straight for the door.

When she entered, Siena found herself in a room that reminded her of the chapels built on mainland Morrowind, dedicated to the Imperial cult's Nine Divines. Rainbows of light shined through mosaic stained glass upon a large forge facing away from Siena, and a staircase on her right led to a lower room. There was a table next to the forge with an assortment of light armor and weapons, and Siena moved around the forge to check if the blacksmith was on the other side. The anvil stood unused, however, and Siena frowned.

The ring of hammer meeting metal broke the silence of the empty smithy, and Siena turned, noticing there was a room behind and below the table. Stone buttresses spanned the gap in the floor to the wall, and as she approached she could see an Orc below, clad in the traditional apron of a blacksmith and shaping a piece of metal. Confused as to why he would have two forges, Siena shook her head and proceeded down the staircase.

At the base of the steps was an assortment of crates, a bookcase, and a desk, and beyond that the second forge. As Siena walked towards the blacksmith, however, something else caught her attention before she caught his. It was a suit of orange armor on display in an alcove, colored like the amber she had found in the Grummite encampment. It was beautiful, gleaming softly in the firelight of the forge, and reminded her of the Cyrodiilic designs of the glass armor made from the volcanic glass of Red Mountain. Cyrodiilic designs tended to resemble stained glass windows, and this armor was not much different in that respect. There was a second suit of the armor in another alcove on the other side of large wooden double doors.

"Hi there, Sparkles," said an Argonian behind her, and Siena turned to set glaring eyes on the lizard.

"Are you the blacksmith?" She asked coldly.

"No."

"Do you craft this armor?" She continued with her voice still steady.

"No." The Argonian repeated, looking confused.

"Then I have no dealings with you, and I will not put up with nicknames. Call me 'Sparkles' again, and I'll break your tail." Siena snapped, shoving past the now worried Argonian to get the attention of the Orc.

"Umm… See ya." The Argonian replied, heading out of the smithy rather swiftly. Siena ignored his exit.

"Excuse me, sir!" Siena raised her voice over the sound of metal being shaped by the blacksmith, catching his attention. He looked up, smiled toothily, and set aside the strip to let it cool.

"Hello! I'm Dumag gro-Bonk." The Orc announced before running a hand over his bare crown, then running his fingers through the braids of the hair on the back of his head. "Best and prettiest smith in town," he added proudly. Siena raised an eyebrow before pointing at the orange glass armor.

"What's that made of?" She inquired abruptly.

"Ah, the amber armor," sighed Dumag, a girlish grin on his face. "Amber is a resin found in root system tunnels and on Gnarls." _Whatever a Gnarl is, _Siena thought. "When treated properly, it is especially suited to lightweight weapons and armor." _Lightweight armor… that's exactly what I need!_

"I know the secret art of forging Amber." Dumag proclaimed like a haughty little girl, holding a hand to his chest proudly. "If you're interested, I can give you a list of what I need. I can even craft you magical items."

"I am quite interested, actually." Siena responded with remarkable composure, since she was about ready to laugh at the Orc's antics. For now, she contented herself with a raised, amused eyebrow.

"Alrighty then!" Dumag exclaimed and led her over to the desk and opened a scroll box, pulling out a piece of parchment. "Here's the list." Siena looked it over, more interested in the armor than the weapons; she had Cutter for the weapons. Folding up the paper, she put it in the pack and began to rummage through it for the Amber she had recently placed there.

"So what about these magical items? Do you need matrices like Cutter?" Siena asked, still rummaging for the pieces of Amber as the Orc fell silent. It took a minute, but then she realized there were sniffling sounds coming from across the desk. She looked up, perplexed, to see Dumag sitting in the chair with tears in his eyes.

"You think I'm ugly, don't you?" Dumag sobbed, covering his face in his hands. "And that she's a prettier smith? Is that it?" He bawled, and Siena stood there, stunned by total confusion. She'd faced eight-eyed trees, frog-goblins, and undead monstrosities, all unexpected but manageable; well sort of. But how do you deal with a crying Orc? Siena wasn't even aware they **could** cry.

"Oh, Dumag, no, it's not that." Siena tried to reassure him, moving across the desk and reaching out to touch his shaking shoulder. Immediately Dumag shrugged her off, folding his arms over his chest and emitting a 'humph'.

"I am the Master Smith of New Sheoth. Why bother with that other smith?" Dumag snapped at her, and Siena sighed. _Do I really have to deal with this just to get some decent gloves?_

"Dumag, listen." Siena grabbed at his shoulders roughly. "I went to Cutter because I found her first. And it took me forever to find her shop, let alone yours. And you know what, hers was useless to me!" Siena proclaimed, releasing his shoulders and throwing up her arms. "She had sharp weapons, sure, but I needed some armor, light and flexible, and all she had was this chunky iron crap!" Dumag was smiling a little now, though still weepy.

"And I don't like her much," Siena added, leaning against the crates nearby. "She's… creepy." Siena shuddered. "I like you better, Dumag… well, until you got all weepy." That was true. Until Dumag had started crying, he had been a much nicer smith in her opinion, rather amiable.

"So, are you going to stop crying and make me some gauntlets, Dumag gro-Bonk?" Siena asked, opening her hip pack again to fish out the amber. She finally found two sizable chunks and set them on the table. "I believe this should be enough, based on your list." _And if I want more Amber armor, that'll need more Amber. I might need to invest in a bigger pack._ Dumag nodded his head, braids bobbing, and looked at the Amber pieces on the table.

"Yes, you do need some gauntlets don't you?" Dumag smiled. "A lady may be a killer, but she shouldn't ruin her manicure by chipping a nail. Let's get your measurements and I'll get to work." Siena snickered, catching herself and stopping a full laugh from escaping. She could scarcely believe the words he'd just spoken; they were so out of place from an Orc. Nevertheless, she held out her arms as the Orc produced measuring string and proceeded to take the dimension of her wrists, hands, and forearm, muttering each measure as he went about it. He began to bend her wrists up and down and roll them, watching their motion intently. It made Siena feel a little uneasy.

"Oh dear, what happened here sweetheart?" Dumag asked as he finished her left hand, looking at her shoulder. Siena frowned at the nickname and was about to say something when he plucked at the chainmail, revealing the hole in the shoulder links. "It looks like you chipped a few rings."

Siena had completely forgotten about that wound from an arrow strike back in the Gardens of Flesh and Bone. It seemed like so long ago in memory, when it was a day, maybe two, in the past. Compared to her leg wound in the caves, her shoulder had been a minor grievance that she let heal on its own.

"Oh, yeah, an arrow got me there a while ago." Siena admitted. "Could you fix that, while you're at it?"

"But of course dear!" Dumag laughed, stepping back. "Go ahead, take it off and I'll make it look gooood aas new."

"Uh… You want me to take it off? Now," Siena asked with hesitation.

"Of course. I can't very well fix it while it's on you." Dumag scoffed, batting a hand at her weakly.

"But I don't have a shirt or anything under it," replied Siena, frowning. Dumag responded with an 'oh', before thinking and then finally motioning her to follow. He led her through the double doors between the Amber armors, down a hall into what looked like his room. It was lightly decorated with a stone wardrobe, stone table and chairs, and a bed with crimson sheets that had stone head and foot boards. Siena noticed the bed was not actually raised above the floor, and the ends of the footboard were carved animal legs. The table and chairs had similar leg carvings.

Dumag went to the wardrobe and opened it to reveal a bundle of hanging clothing, from which he pulled out a particular piece.

"I bought this for myself a while back, but I am terrible at tailoring cloth and could never get it to fit. You can have it." Dumag told her, holding out the sky blue dress. Siena took it, one eyebrow crooked in what was soon going to become a perpetually perplexed expression. When the Orc didn't leave the room, Siena frowned.

"Do you mind? I would like some privacy."

"Oh, okay dear, just bring out the chainmail when you're done," Dumag backed out of the room, and Siena followed him into the hall, watching him close the doors before looking at the dress again.

It was designed like the ones she'd seen on other women in the Isles, like Relmyna and Bernice, but this one had less frills and was less puffed at the skirt. It looked like it would hug her figure better than those dresses; if the Orc hadn't ruined it of course. There were a few notably sections of resewing here and there, but it was otherwise intact. Siena set it down on the bed, getting to work on undoing the belt and pulling off the cuirass.

Leaving her boots and pants on, she proceeded to get the dress over her head, only to have it fall swiftly over her body and slip off one shoulder. _Dammit, what size is this thing? _Siena frowned, pulling it back over her shoulder. She began to tie the under bust tighter, hoping it might hold the dress to her better, and it did, though the shoulders remained a problem. Siena looked down, noticing how low cut the v-neck was; she was practically showing her bosom off, but at least it covered the important bits. _It'll have to do._ She reasoned, refastening her belt and walking out of Dumag's room with cuirass over her sleeved arm.

"Oh, you look lovely!" Dumag exclaimed, a wide smile on his green face. Siena smirked back just to please him, handing over the cuirass. "I'll have everything done by nightfall, sweetheart. Why don't you go shopping," he suggested as he took the cuirass from her.

"Yeah… perhaps I'll do that." Siena replied.


	22. Chapter 22: To Kill a God

**_Author's Note: _**_This chapter is the longest chapter yet, more than twice as long as the average chapter. However, cutting it in half would not have had good results in my opinion, so I left it at this length. It is fitting, as it is a major point in the story. Do enjoy and please review. I do hope to update this story soon as well. Working on next chapter now.  
_

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Chapter 22: To Kill a God…

Siena stepped out into the sunlight through the same upper-story door from which she had entered Dumag's shop, deciding not to lose her orientation by taking one of the other doors. Back in the plaza, and the public eye, she subconsciously grasped at the left shoulder of the dress, since it currently had the greatest tendency to slip down her arm. _Thank Almalexia I won't have to wear this for very long, _she thought, which reminded her of something she needed to shop for; a larger pack.

Since The Choosy Beggar sign sported a moon and stars (a universal sign of a tavern apparently) she decided to try the shop with the portico, and headed to her left. When she could finally see the sign, she snickered at the name.

"Common Treasures, an oxymoron that is likely lost on these folks," she muttered to herself, entering anyways. She found the shop to look very reminiscent of a pawnshop, with wine racks on the walls and barrels of random things, cabinets here and there and shelves with quills, pictures, rolling pins and pottery behind the desk. Also behind that desk was a Dunmeri woman with sunken cheeks and brown hair wearing a light purple version of the dress Siena was trying to ensure stayed on her body.

"Can I help you?" The woman asked as Siena approached, her face devoid of any pleasantry. In fact, she looked almost annoyed by Siena's presence. "Something you need? So many things to need." The way she said that last statement confirmed to Siena that this woman was somehow aggravated by something.

"Actually, yes," Siena replied coolly, deciding to ignore the woman's emotional state and get on with business. "I need a larger pack. This thing," she unbuckled the belt pack and put it on the table, "isn't cutting it. Got anything bigger?"

"Yes, I do. A Knight of the Thorn came by here recently, and he had a pack he didn't need anymore." The Dunmer woman moved away from the desk towards one of the cabinets. When she returned, she had a belt pack in her hands that was considerably larger than the one Siena had found. The Dunmer placed it on the table, still holding the straps.

"Might I try it on?" Siena asked, prompting the woman to abruptly slide the pack across with displeasure. Siena decided to ignore this, slinging the pack around her waist and buckling it up.

The pack was noticeably wider and deeper than the pouch-belt she had found, and when she adjusted it, she could get the entire storage section to rest comfortably on her lower back. She began to fiddle with the pockets behind her, feeling around and undoing buttons and buckles. She was pleased to find most of the smaller pockets easy to access from that angle, though the main pocket was cumbersome to handle. There was also a weapon strap and several straps for potions or small daggers. Quickly shaking her hips and not caring about how this all might look to the fellow Dunmer, who was likely insane anyways, she smiled at the soft sounds of the pack. It wasn't loud and obnoxious, nor did it shift much when she moved.

"It's perfect!" Siena exclaimed, undoing the clasp on her old pack. "How much?"

"25 gold," responded the woman with an inappropriate lack of enthusiasm. Siena cringed; that was a good chunk of what little gold she had gotten from the Grummites and hadn't used at Sickly Bernice's. But if getting out of the Isles after getting her revenge on Sheogorath became arduous, she might need the additional space for items she might find that could save her hide later. Reluctantly, she handed over the gold and proceeded to remove her stuff from the old pack, under the watchful eye of the shopkeeper.

As Siena placed things in her new pack, she got more uneasy with every item. The Dunmeri woman's eyes watched the process with a near predatory hunger, as if every item removed from the pack she was about to receive was a meal lost to her. Siena placed her remaining gold into the new pack and pushed the old belt in front of her.

"Ten gold," She said simply, in a voice that was quite obviously unwilling to compromise. The woman briefly bit her lip, staring at the old belt.

"So many things to need…" The woman whispered, before snatching the pack and slamming ten gold on the table, turning away and coddling the pack. Siena simply took the gold and headed for the door.

"If you find any interesting things, let me know!" The woman hollered after her, still clutching the pack. Siena didn't respond.

When she was outside again, she found that the sun was still high, and she still had time to burn before her equipment was finished at either smith. Directly below the portico of Common Treasures was a staircase leading to the right down a path whose destination she didn't know. _Hey, I got time to explore._

As she headed down the path, she saw an elf in a long sleeved light blue shirt, one of the strangest shirts she had ever seen as it had multiple folds in the sleeves resulting in a multi-layered, frilly look. However, stranger still was the woman's actions; she threw bright purple balls into the air, tossing them between her hands. Siena had never seen such a thing before, and stood there as the elf carried on her act, the only spectator.

Deeming herself finished, the woman caught all three balls and held her arms out at her sides, lowering herself on one knee in a sort of bow. Only then did she notice Siena.

"Did you see my last performance?" She asked eagerly, and Siena nodded. "Did you like it?" Siena smiled and nodded again. "I'm Thaedil, the juggler. I'm sure you've heard of me." Before Siena could say otherwise, Thaedil's face fell and she took on a whiny, depressed tone.

"Oh, who am I kidding? More likely you came to scoff at the worst juggler in the world," Thaedil groaned, and Siena frowned.

"No, it was good," Siena responded, trying hard to restore a smile. "There are no… jugglers, where I come from. I've never seen such an act before, and I thought it was neat. You should keep it up."

"You think so?" Thaedil's face lit up at this, and Siena nodded. "But what if others laugh at me?" Again her face fell. _Can she stay happy for longer than a minute?_ Siena wondered, starting to get annoyed again by the insanity of the people around her.

"You're a juggler, just juggle something into their face," she suggested. "Now, go perform in the plaza and show off your skills, Thaedil."

"That's a good idea!" Thaedil grinned. "Thank you! I will, and I hope we meet again."

As Thaedil ran off to show her little act to the rest of Bliss, Siena continued down the street, looking for something interesting to do that wouldn't annoy her. She got the feeling that would be a hard requirement to meet around here. However, there was hope when she got past the long wall of The Missing Pauldron, as there was another shop sign, 'Books of Bliss'. _That might make for an enjoyable time-waster,_ she thought, heading for the door.

The inside of the bookstore was not very lavish, with a front counter across from the door, sporting one of those statues of Sheogorath that every building seemed to have. Directly to her left was a staircase leading up, likely to the shopkeeper's quarters. The shopkeeper was an Altmeri woman behind the counter, wearing a dress just like Siena's; only it was a bright, lime green. Apparently this style of dress was rather popular. The woman was wearing makeup and dark red lipstick, and had pulled the neckline of her dress a little further down than owner of Common Treasures had, revealing a lot more cleavage.

"New around here?" The Altmer asked swiftly, before Siena had even opened her mouth. Her eyes roamed Siena's form with disdain. "Well we can start off by getting one thing straight. The men around here are mine. You want fresh pickings, go out and scrounge up some leftovers in a settlement or something." She waved her hand as if to dismiss the Dunmer, and Siena glared at the provocatively dressed elf.

"Listen, hussy," Siena snapped quickly, balling her fists. "I came in here to read a few books, maybe even buy one, not get told who I could or couldn't sleep with. I don't want the lunatics around here, and even if I did I'd like to see you try and stop me." Siena stuck out her chin at the woman, folding her arms. "I'm just here to do some reading; you can keep your precious men."

"Oh, well then," the elf looked at the books on the counter. "If you are looking for a good book, I bet I have just what you need. Please, peruse the shelves," she motioned to the series of stone bookshelves to Siena's left, parallel to the staircase. Siena smirked, jutting out her hip with sass, and subtly readjusting the slipping left shoulder of her dress.

"That's more like it."

* * *

Siena had found one book that interested her during the several hours she spent at the bookstore, awaiting her new weapons and gauntlets. _The Shivering Bestiary_, it was called, and it made for an enlightening read.

Apparently, the Baliwog mentioned by the Mazken was something like the Grummites, but four-legged. She might have seen something like it before, when she had first fought a Grummite before she knew what it was; she couldn't remember though, and if it had been a Baliwog she was glad it was already dead.

She didn't know what an Elytra was, but it sounded like one big, nasty bug, capable of blocking weapons and, most annoyingly, arrows. If she did encounter one, she'd have to be weary of that sting and the venom it held, since it supposedly lasted hours untreated.

The next creature mentioned, the Flesh Atronach, reminded Siena instantly of both the Gatekeeper and Bonewalkers from her homeland. She had visibly shuddered while reading that excerpt, earning her a curious eye from the bookseller, Sontaire as she had heard the woman called by the men that had come into the shop. She took note that the Flesh Atronachs were weak to shock magic, but otherwise preferred to note how Sontaire was bold and flirtatious towards the man across the counter, leaning just so over the edge so he could practically get a view equivalent to if she was naked. It cleared her mind of thoughts of the undead, so she could continue on a less disgusted note.

_That's what a Gnarl is! That tree that tried to kill me!_ She realized as she read the next entry in the Bestiary, delighted to figure out what creature held more Amber. She was also pleased to discover how to kill it easier than hacking at its head with a knife, though that would require more spells than just her fireballs. Perhaps she would have to visit that magic shop in Crucible sometime.

The other entries included Grummites, some powerful beast called a Scalon, Hungers (which she already knew enough about from her homeland), and more types of undead. She ignored the undead entries and took note of the Grummites being able to regenerate themselves underwater and in rain; she'd have to keep that in mind when on the road, lest she start a fight at a very bad time.

"It's time for you to go," Sontaire's voice interrupted her reading, making Siena look up from the book. The Altmer was fiddling with her collar, as if she was eager to rid her body of the cloth. "Have things to see and people to do."

Siena set the book back on the shelf, looking at the Nordic man over by the counter. Apparently, it was time for her to leave these two alone. Without a word, she vacated the premises, allowing them to do whatever they pleased.

The sun was just setting now; she must have spent more time reading than she had thought. However, it was perfect, as now everything was likely to be finished at both smiths. Siena headed straight for Dumag's shop, which conveniently had a door near Books of Bliss.

"Welcome back, dear!" Dumag cried out from the forge when Siena entered, causing her to smile. He had to be the most cordial citizen of the Realm she had met so far. "I was worried you might have forgotten about me," the Orc pouted, and Siena laughed.

"You are a hard one to forget, Dumag," she assured him. "Everything finished?"

"Oh, yes, yes. The chainmail is like you just had it linked, and your Amber gauntlets are like embers trapped in glass." Dumag handed over a folded chainmail cuirass and two gauntlets to Siena, waving her into the hallway that led to his room. "Now, go try it all on. I'm dying to know what you think!"

Siena obliged the Orc, all too eager to remove the oversized dress. The chainmail was perfectly repaired, with not a trace of the previous hole to be found. Siena was pleased to have the cool metal back on her body again, though she would need to find a good undershirt sometime. The belt pack fit over the cuirass like they were made for each other, and finally Siena inspected the gauntlets.

The core of the gauntlet was a leather glove that came a little past her wrist, and fit her like a second skin. Attached to the leather at the back of the hand were two plates of Amber, one overlapping the other. Siena was pleased to find that the curvature of the plates allowed her to bend her wrist back almost completely. Attached to the cuff of the glove were two plates of Amber on either side of her arm, the outer arm plate reaching to nearly her elbow while the inner plate went half as far. Like the plates on the back of the hand, these were curved, which aided in allowing her to bend and roll her wrist.

There was only one problem with the gauntlets; they were extremely reflective and deep, vibrant orange. That could be a problem when trying to remain hidden. To test it, Siena went to the dark corner of the hallway, looking at the gauntlets again. The color had darkened, as they were slightly transparent, but it was still rather bright for the shadows and a tad bit reflective. Siena hated having to bring him down, but she'd have to see what he could do about that. Leaving the dress on his bed, Siena returned to the forge to find a grinning, eager Orc.

"So, what do you think?"

"I like them," Siena replied honestly, looking at the gloves on her hands. They did fit her very well. Best fitting gloves she'd ever worn, in fact. "But I was wondering, is there a way to dull their shine? It's not that I don't like it," she immediately explained as she watched Dumag's face droop. "But I'm a stealthy sort of person, see, and they are a bit too shiny for hiding in the shadows."

"Oh, I see," Dumag sighed, heading over to the crates. "Well, if you insist sweetheart, I can make the surface a bit rougher for you, and that might do it."

"Alright, sounds good." Siena held out her hands as Dumag took rough paper to the Amber plates, rubbing them gently. When he was finished, and had blown off the last of the dust, they still caught the firelight, but were much less flashy. "Thank you."

"See, I am the Master Smith of New Sheoth, don't bother with that other smith in town," Dumag proclaimed, and Siena grinned. "Give Dumag a hug before you go, dear." Siena complied, feeling less awkward about doing so now that he had become a bit more of a friend. "A happy customer is a returning customer. Come back whenever you need something, dear."

"I'll be sure to, Dumag." Siena replied with a smile before heading out to get her new bow from Cutter.

* * *

When she arrived at Cutter's Weapons, Cutter was working on something in the forge and didn't see her come in. Siena noticed as she approached that there was a bow sitting on the table near the forge.

"Do you enjoy it?" Cutter asked softly in between blows to a piece of hot metal. Siena was caught off guard, unaware Cutter had noticed her.

"Enjoy what?"

"Cutting my heart," the Bosmeri blacksmith continued, not looking at Siena. "Why visit that other smith?" Cutter turned to Siena now, and she could see tears welling in the woman's eyes. Siena was as surprised by Cutter crying as she was with Dumag, and Relmyna.

"You're better with weapons and he's-" she began but Cutter cut her off by pointing her hammer at the table.

"Your Madness bow is on the table along with thirty steel arrows," she said dully, eyes staring beyond the bow even though she was looking at it. "Think of me when you send those arrows to bite into your foe," she added with a whisper, before returning abruptly to her work.

Siena felt crestfallen; she may not have particularly liked Cutter, but the woman just seemed so… depressed. And it was all because she wandered in here with Amber gauntlets on her arms. _Should've taken the damn things off first,_ she snapped to herself, slinging the quiver of steel arrows onto her back before inspecting her brand new bow.

The bow was a fine piece of craftsmanship, nearly as long as she was tall, and etched with intricate swirling patterns of gold weaving across the dark grey surface. She was a bit unsettled by the fact that many of the patterns created eyes on the bow, but she'd get over it. At various parts the swirls came out of the bow shaft, creating wicked looking spikes on the bow. Even the handle had spikes pointing forward, towards her future targets.

The overall structure of the bow, she noticed, was completely symmetrical. This was wonderful, since having no discernable top or bottom meant that she could fire it upside down and it would still not feel awkward. She was also delighted that the bow, despite being rather thick at the base, felt as light as iron or steel bows and had similar draw strength. While she missed the powerful, incredibly light chitin bows of her homeland, this Madness bow would serve her nicely.

"Thank you for the bow. It's perfect."

"Come back if your blades ever need sharpening," Cutter stated softly, turning to Siena only briefly. She got the feeling that was the best she would get out of Cutter, so left the shop and went back into the night, bow slung over her shoulders.

Now Siena was at a crossroads. She could go see Sheogorath now, at night, not sure if he would even be there; or where he would be if he wasn't in the Palace. Or she could wait until the morning, rest up and eat, and get revenge on that insane Daedric Prince tomorrow. As she was debating, her stomach growled at her, putting in its vote.

"Very well, food and sleep it is." However, Siena was in no mood to deal with the deplorable rubbish Sickly Bernice had given her. So instead, she headed back to Bliss, seeking out The Choosy Beggar to see how choosy the beggar was on the quality of its food and bedding.

* * *

When she arrived at The Choosy Beggar, she found the entry hall to be rather small, with a staircase leading up and an archway leading to the bigger dinning area. An Argonian male dressed in brown trousers and a knee length tunic with a pale blue vest was standing nearby, looking at her with suspicion as he leaned on the railing of the staircase.

"Excuse me, I was wondering if you had a room available," Siena inquired as she approached, and the Argonian narrowed his eyes.

"You want to stay here for a night, eh?" He seemed doubtful of her intentions, crossing his arms. "Just for sleeping… you keep to yourself, mind your business," his voice began to deepen, becoming stern and possessive, "and stay away from my wife."

"Ookay then…" Siena backed away slightly.

"The room is 20 gold for the night. You want to stay or not?" He abruptly questioned, holding out a hand for the gold. Siena frowned, reaching back for the small pocket that held her money. This place wouldn't leave her with much left, but she needed food and a decent place to sleep. Sighing in defeat, she placed the gold in his waiting hand, his other one producing the key. "Good. The room is on the second floor, right across from the stairs. Sleep soundly." Siena took the key gratefully.

"Can I get a meal first, with what I have left over?" Siena asked, holding out the rest of her coins. The Argonian peered at the money before nodding.

"I've got my eye on you, though. Just keep your eyes on the menu, and off of Sheer Meedish," He told her, taking that possessive tone again. Siena wondered whether or not he realized she was not only a woman, but an elf, so very unlikely to be attracted to female Argonians. Nevertheless she agreed and headed into the other room to sit down at one of the tables, the innkeeper bringing out a plate.

"Buy us a drink!" shouted an Argonian female from across the room. Siena ignored her, though the look the innkeeper gave the female suggested that was Sheer Meedish, the wife she was supposed to avoid. Siena shifted her gaze to the plate instead.

Sadly, this meal looked no better than Sickly Bernice's. The majority of the plate was taken up by a large, clawed leg of meat with green skin, and there was an assortment of strange vegetables she'd never seen before. The leg of meat was smoked, and smelled good, but Siena's eyes disagreed with her nostrils. However, her stomach overruled both and she ate anyways. Meal finished, she went upstairs to recuperate.

The room was a long rectangle with benches on one side, cupboards on the other, and a bed at the far end. The furniture all resembled Dumag's; the style was quite popular around New Sheoth, it seemed. Not really caring, Siena locked the door and undressed, happy just to see a clean, soft bed.

* * *

Siena had slept well that night, with no nightmares plaguing her. Well rested and in a better mood than she'd ever been since entering this wretched Realm, she prepared to face the day, and Sheogorath.

"I don't think this is a good idea, Siena," a voice behind her said as she unlocked the door to her room. She recognized it as Belmyne's voice, but didn't turn to look at him. "You should wait for a better opening."

"Belmyne," Siena sighed, opening the door. "Shut up." She wasn't going to back down now, she had to get her revenge and this was a chance. She was going to take every chance she could get.

Getting directions to the Palace was a bit more complicated than it really should have been, since the Aureal guard wasn't really keen on answering any questions. Finally getting a finger pointing to a staircase near The Choosy Beggar, she felt a twinge of embarrassment and headed for Sheogorath's Palace. It was a pretty tall set of stairs, and led to a platform that overlooked Bliss, a tree full of bright orange leaves hanging over it. Siena walked around the branches, past another annoyed Aureal, and reached a rather small, inconspicuous wooden door.

Through the door, she found herself in a cloister, a courtyard surrounded by columned, covered walkways. The courtyard itself was divided into two halves, one more colorful than the other; obviously representing Mania and Dementia. However, one large feature that **didn't** seem fitting was the crystal obelisk standing in each of the courtyards, surrounded by smaller spires of dark grey crystal. They were even blander and more colorless than the scenery of Dementia, a feat Siena had until now thought impossible. Moving away from the strange crystals, she headed to the open walkway dividing the two courtyards, and turned to face the Palace.

Two giant platforms of stone, accessible by stairs, stood between her and the Palace, and from here, with the sun burning the sky behind it, the building looked similar to how Siena had always imagined the Temple of the One in the Imperial City to look. Styled like the cathedrals to the Nine, there were essentially three cathedrals side by side, the outer two jutting out ahead of the middle one, and all connected by perpendicular halls running between them. Buttresses ran along the sides of the building like insect legs, and long, thin windows broke the monotony of stone. On the corners of the platforms before her were braziers, alight with fire. To her left orange, natural flame and to her right the braziers burned a magical blue, like the serpent torches she'd seen when entering Crucible.

She ascended the steps, noting that the cloister had a second floor and completely enclosed the Palace. When she had reached the top, she found doors leading to the side cathedrals, and two doors to the central building on either side of the invisible Mania/Dementia divide, each guarded by one of the land's guards. Siena took the Dementia door, just to avoid another snide remark from a Golden Saint.

When she entered the building, Siena found herself in an arcaded aisle, looking into a nave. The nave extended above the columned arches and sported clerestory windows that let soft blue light into the room. The main lighting of the room came from braziers, however, which stood on either side of the nave in a series of four. They were divided by stairs leading from the aisle to the nave, so that three were near the throne and one on the far end. The braziers on both sides continued the previous color scheme; red orange fire on the left, soft blue on the right. Even the carpet and the seat of the throne itself followed the pattern, with the left half being orange and the right being a dark blue-green.

On either side of the throne was another brazier, and behind it, a large tree with luminescent orange and blue fungus according to the motif. Roots of the tree spread past the throne, reaching out to the nave. The throne itself was two to three times taller than the man that sat in it, and had three sculpted horns on either side pointing towards the ceiling.

Siena moved behind one of the pillars farthest from the throne, taking up her bow and knocking an arrow, inhaling deeply. When she turned around, she leveled her arrow at the man on the throne. While from afar she couldn't see details, she knew it wasn't Haskill; he was standing nearby. The man wore a purple shirt and brown pants, and had a cane across his legs, looking comfortable. It was similar enough to descriptions of Sheogorath she could recall. _This is it._

The arrow whizzed through the air towards the throne, piercing into Sheogorath's chest perfectly. But he gave no cry of pain, or alarm, or even anger, and just rose from the throne, arrow throbbing with the beat of his Daedric heart.

Siena snarled, leaping over the small wall dividing the nave and the aisle and drawing Belmyne's dagger from her boot in midair. When she landed, she tossed the bow to the side and charged at the Prince, who watched her with amusement as the arrow turned to dust.

"Ya really shouldn't uve done that!" Sheogorath proclaimed in a deep brogue, before rapping the end of his cane on the floor. Sparks shot out from the impact, careening towards the braziers.

Siena was only half-way to the Daedric Prince when the flames leaped from their bowls, serpents of red and blue fire coiling around her body in short time. The last sight Siena saw was the mismatched golden and blue eyes of Sheogorath as he smiled at her.

"Enjoy the view," he stated in a hushed tone, and the fires entombed Siena. Only a moment later the roaring flames became a flurry of feathers and wings, as red and blue birds chattered and chirped around her in frenzy before flying off. The birds left her with clear blue sky above, and hazy orange below. Unsure exactly where she was, Siena looked around for a moment, before getting the sensation that she might be falling.

Looking down, Siena screamed as she found herself plummeting towards trees and a stone altar upon a hill. Every breath became a curse screamed at Sheogorath with every second that she plummeted, ruing the day she stepped into his horrid realm.


	23. Chapter 23: You Gotta Be More Subtle

_**Author's Note:** This chapter has been a long time coming, and I am pleased to finally debut Sheogorath in my fic. I hope you enjoy how I have rendered him, because he was complicated to put into words, and I am pleased with the result. However, any suggestions you have are more than welcome, or any reviewing comments period. Enjoy._

* * *

Chapter 23: …You Gotta Be More Subtle

Siena had her eyes closed as she dropped towards the stone altar, cursing Sheogorath's existence, the Realm, everything. She hit the ground with a dull, reverberating thud that jarred her teeth and knocked her glasses off her face.

Siena groaned, unsure what just happened but generally feeling painful all over. _Am I dead?_ Her muscles ached as she got to her hands and knees before opening her eyes. What she saw around her was fuzzy, indistinct color; oranges and blues and tan-grey abounded, all seeming familiar. She looked down, finding an orange and blue carpet beneath her, blood free; it was the only thing in the room she could see clearly at the moment.

That was until a wooden shaft stamped the ground right in front of her face. It was a smooth, stained wood of a cane designed to retain its natural tree branch features. She followed the wood up to a blood red orb clasped in wooden fingers, covered by fleshy, fair-skinned, human fingers.

"Well, look who's here! You!" A familiar voice exclaimed, deep and carrying a distinctive brogue. "How 'bout that?" The voice became softer, almost like a loud sigh. From her position, she noticed the man had brown loafers and golden brown pants, but the right and left legs didn't match. His right leg was plain, but the left sported a purple half chap, and the left pant leg was darker, with black splotches in a pattern she couldn't discern.

"A new arrival!" The owner of the voice practically shouted above her, making her wince. She looked up towards the speaker, but all she could see was a violet tunic, a golden belt with a demonic (almost like a Hunger) face for a buckle, a bare right hand, and a left hand covered by a dark purple fingerless glove. "Shame about my Gatekeeper," the man said, this time his voice absent of the rumbling brogue.

Siena began to search the ground for her glasses, trying to make sense of what was happening to her. She was falling, falling towards her doom after trying to exact her vengeance on Sheogorath for driving her lover and friends insane. So how did she end up here, in this blurry place that seemed familiar?

"I'm so happy," the man continued as Siena searched, his deep brogue returning, "I could just… tear out yer intestines, an' strangle ya with 'em, ha-ha-ha." The man laughed, sending a chill down Siena's spine and freezing her search for the glasses. The man bent down, his purple-clad hand plucking something from the ground. Siena watched, clearly making out golden sleeves from wrist to elbow, before they were covered by violet sleeves with golden embroidery throughout that carried on further. She dared not look at the man's face yet, unsure she wanted to look at a man who just made such a horrendous threat; a man whose voice was familiar as well.

"I'm a bit curious, lass," the man carried on, holding out the item he'd picked up; it was her glasses. Siena hesitantly took them from his grasp, putting them on. "Just what were ya plannin' on doin', after ya gone an' killed me?"

Realization dawned on Siena, and she swiftly looked up to find her face a mere foot from what most certainly was Sheogorath's! Like all the stories of her youth, he had slicked back hair and a neatly trimmed beard and moustache that covered his entire jaw and mouth, leaving only pale lips exposed. The beard wasn't short either, hanging a good blade's width below his chin. But unlike the stories, his hair was silvery, graying like an aging man's instead of the blonde in the tales she'd heard. But the biggest surprise was in Sheogorath's eyes, which were heterochromatic. His right eye was an Aureal's, and the left a Mazken's; the result was a terrifyingly alien look to Siena.

"I wouldn't go tryin' that again, missy," Sheogorath chided. "I amn't in the business of givin' second chances," his voice lowered as he narrowed those unmatched eyes, "if ya catch mah drift." Siena gulped. _Maybe Belmyne was right._

"Sheogorath…" Siena whispered, leaning away from him.

"Yes? Speakin' ta me?" Sheogorath asked, amused. "Well I'm he. He's me. An' others… as well." Sheogorath shrugged. "Or, they were… weren't they?" He rose to his full height, stroking his beard in perplexed thoughtfulness.

"But I suppose a proper introduction **is **in order," the Daedric Lord walked back towards his throne, ascending the steps with cane tapping rhythmically. When he reached the throne once more, he turned to face her, spreading out his arms. "I'm Sheogorath, Prince… of… Madness!" Dipping suddenly into a flourished bow at the waist, he straightened again, planting his staff roughly on the floor.

"And… other things," Sheogorath added, waving his hand as if to dismiss them. "I'm not talking about them…" his voice had begun to lower to a soft hush, suggesting Siena agree about dismissing these 'other things.' Siena sheathed Belmyne's dagger in her boot with uncertainty, still glaring at the Mad God, who sat down in his throne, holding his cane upright before him like a proper regent.

"You've probably figured that out by now," he rambled on in that hushed voice. Siena's teeth grit and her lip twitched in a brief sarcastic smile. _Yeah, kinda._ "Let's hope so. Or we're in **real **trouble… and," he matched her glare with one of his own, which carried considerably more intimidating potential, "out come the intestines. And I…"

"Skip rope with 'em!" Sheogorath laughed harshly, his scowl not leaving his face. Siena felt her face pale, and she backed up a few steps. Sheogorath ran his fingers through his beard, contemplating.

"But, perhaps now's not the time," he decided, nodding. "Ya've made it this far. Farther than anyone else," he amended rapidly, and Siena narrowed her eyes again, recalling his words after Belmyne's death, before she'd ever entered this Realm. _Not yet, Siena, hold back… or he'll splatter you for real._" Well done!" Sheogorath placed his cane across his lap, sluggishly clapping for Siena and receiving a frown in return.

Something seemed to dawn on the Prince, as he suddenly grinned and reached into the inner breast pocket of his tunic, which Siena could now see, was actually an elaborate purple suit jacket over a golden, collared tunic. From it he pulled out a golden chain with a pendant attached, a small gem shinning in its center.

"Take this trinket of mine. Perhaps it will serve ya well." He held out the 'trinket' towards her, amulet swinging idly in the air. "Or look… lovely on yer corpse," he said softly, still holding out the amulet. Siena stayed where she was, halfway down the carpet from the throne.

"Go on, take it. It ain't goin' to bite ya," Sheogorath snapped, waving the jewelry around unceremoniously. "An' neither will I… well, not right now anyways."

Slowly, Siena approached the throne steps, one foot painstakingly placing itself before the other despite every muscle of her body screaming to either stay away or charge at the lunatic ahead. She analyzed him further with every step. His jacket was extremely elaborate, with the golden embroidery forming scale-like patterns, or ones that looked like beasts, or eyes, or tentacles; like his behavior, the patterns were hard to understand. His jacket continued the left/right divide emphasized by practically everything in the Palace, as the left shoulder was covered by another layer of violet cloth that ended in a zigzag seam, while the right shoulder was smooth and seamless. His jacket collar, which was wide at the shoulders but tapered at the breast, was likewise divided, as the left edge zigzagged while the right side was straight. Like his eyes and his manner, his clothes were of a design Siena had never seen or heard of, yet seemed fit for any lord of a realm. But it also furthered his intimidating air.

Siena finally stopped at the top of the steps, once again mere feet from the man –no, beast, as he was in no way a man- who had destroyed her life. Her face showed no appreciation for the gift as she held out her hand and the Daedric Lord dropped it in her palm. She could feel the magic within the item, pulsing in her fist. _How charitable of the Mad God, to give me an enchanted necklace, _she mentally snickered, though her cold glare never wavered from the Daedric Prince. She decided to call the amulet Charity of Madness, in honor of the irony inherent in her receiving it.

"What do you want from me?" Siena asked abruptly. Sheogorath smirked, grabbing the head of his cane in his right hand and planting it on the floor beside him once more, slouching in his throne.

"I've been waitin' fer you," Sheogorath exclaimed. "Or someone like you," he corrected himself with a much calmer tone, "or someone other than you, fer some time." He looked off to the side with what Siena swore might have been hesitance, rapping the fingers of his right hand on the crown of his cane.

"I need a champion," he explained finally, looking at her directly. "And you've got the job!" He stated proudly, slamming his left fist on the arm of his throne and pointing at her. "Time to save the Realm! Rescue the Damsel! Slay the beast!" He shouted, rolling the 'r's with dramatic effect as he raised his arm as if toasting to a tavern buddy, leaning into the left arm of his throne. His smile was comically wide, but suddenly fell as he readjusted his seating, leaning towards Siena now.

"Or die… tryin'." His voice was low and reverberating, making Siena's spine tingle. With equal swiftness as before, he leaned back into his throne again, resting both hands now on his cane. "Your help is required," he stated plainly, as if in light conversation. Siena would have raised an eyebrow long ago, if she wasn't still trying to control herself.

"Why is my help required exactly?"

"A change is coming," Sheogorath answered, joviality gone from his face. "Everythin' changes. Even Daedric Princes." Sheogorath leaned forward to place his chin on the back of his hands, face and tone growing even more serious. "Especially… Daedric Princes."

Now, Siena raised an eyebrow; just what kind of 'changes' would a Daedric Prince undergo that would require a mortal champion? And could these changes leave them weak, susceptible to attack?

"Changes?" She asked, hoping she might pry more out of the rambling God.

"Daedra are the embodiment of change. Change an' permanency. I'm no different, 'cept in the ways that I am," Sheogorath explained, though his explanation was contradictory enough to leave Siena more confused than enlightened. "The Greymarch is comin'!" Sheogorath growled, leaning back again and raising his cane to prod at Siena. "An' you're going to stop it," he whispered fiercely.

"Oh really?" Siena snapped, angrily slapping aside his cane. She'd already had several people telling her what to do. She didn't need to add her sworn enemy to that list. "And just what** is **this 'Greymarch' you demand I stop?"

"The details aren't important," Sheogorath replied, avoiding the question as he placed his cane roughly back on the floor, seeming amused by her sass. "At least… not right now. Eternity is on a rather tight deadline." He looked at Haskill, who stood off to his left in seemingly complete obliviousness to their discussion, before raising his violet-gloved hand to his mouth and leaning forward, whispering "we'll get back to that later." Siena snorted.

"I don't see how I'm supposed to stop this Greymarch if you don't explain what it is. But if you insist on waiting, just what exactly is it you want me to do **now**, then?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Now?" Sheogorath asked back, momentarily confused. "You run an errand for me. An important one," Sheogorath smirked. "Of course, anythin' I tell you to do is **important.**" The Daedric Lord sprung up from his throne, thumbing his chest.

"My Realm, my rules!" His left hand went from his chest to poke Siena in hers. "You're goin'… to Xedilian," he ordered sternly, before placing his hand flat on his chest and swooning. "One of my favorite spots in the Isles." Collecting himself, Sheogorath straightened and sneered. "It's a little place I use ta take care of… unwanted visitors," the Lord growled, eyes flashing with malice. "And some… are more unwanted than others!"

Siena didn't back down this time when the Daedric Prince roared, instead glaring at him, unsure if that last statement was meant to insult or not.

"So why send me to Xedilian?" Siena asked.

"The Gatekeeper takes care of most of the unwanted," Sheogorath admitted, placing his free hand on his hip and leering at Siena now, voice dropping into an accusing tone. "But he's dead."

_Don't accuse me, you **required** me to kill him to get to you._ Siena snapped in her mind.

Sighing, Sheogorath looked at the floor and wandered over to the fiery orange brazier, looking back at the tree behind his throne. "We'll have to remedy that soon, as well…"

"Anyway…" Sheogorath continued after several moments pause, looking back to Siena before beginning a slow walk towards the burning blue brazier. "There are those that have other ways inta my Realm, an' they're on the move. We don't want them here." Sheogorath whirled sharply towards Siena, nearly hitting Haskill with his cane. "Trust me," Sheogorath snarled.

"So," Sheogorath broke into a smile. "You're goin' to get Xedilian up and runnin'. Here's a little book to tell ya how," Sheogorath held up his left hand, and a small, rough covered book materialized. This he held out to Siena, and she took it. "And the Attenuator of Judgment!" Sheogorath whipped his arm around like a stage magician, as if slipping something out from his sleeve, and holding up what looked like a bronze tuning fork. "Uh, you'll need that too," he muttered quickly, handing it over to her.

"Of course, ya can always get more details from Haskill," Sheogorath grinned, motioning towards his chamberlain. "He's a detail-oriented type ah person. A big help." Sheogorath dropped his voice to a whisper yet again. "And, a snappy dresser." Siena grinned at Haskill, who looked like he was barely holding back rolling his eyes.

"I'd still like to know about this Greymarch I'm supposed to be stopping, though." Siena stated, slipping the Attenuator and Manual for Xedilian in her pack.

"Really, no need to trouble yerself with the details of that now," Sheogorath assured her, moving back to his throne and slouching upon it. "It would just cloud your little mind," he said absently.

"Excuse me?"

"What **is** important is getting to Xedilian. Quickly!" Sheogorath sat up straight and practically shouted the word at her, before composing himself and softening his voice. "Before I get bored… Ohhh, ya wouldn't like me when I'm bored…" Sheogorath shook his head, still oblivious to his insult to Siena; or he didn't care. He placed his left elbow on his knee and propped his chin on his fist, rapping his fingers on the head of his cane again.

"Anything else you care to tell me about Xedilian then?" Siena said with a hint of venom. Sheogorath looked at her in annoyance.

"Ah little busy here!" He shouted at her, throwing his hand up in frustration. "I'm tryin' to decide what to have fer dinner. Oh-ho, how I love eatin'." Sheogorath leaned over the right arm of his throne, propping his legs up on the left arm and tossing his cane up in the air to balance it on the palm of his hand. "One of my favorite things to do. Talk to Haskill if ya need more information, he's got more brains than a brain pie," Sheogorath told her, pointing at the chamberlain. "Ooo… Brain pie!" Sheogorath whispered excitedly, fascination at the idea plain on his face.

"Perfect!" He exclaimed shortly after, throwing his hands in the air in celebration of his genius. His elated expression fell into a somber, creepy gaze, and his eyes looked at Siena with hunger. "Care to donate?" It was a deep, soft spoken question, like the question of a killer before they take their victims.

"Um… no thanks…" Siena muttered, backing towards Haskill slowly.

"Very well. Best get goin', before I change my mind," Sheogorath instructed, laying his cane on his chest and nestling his hands behind his head. "Or my mind… changes me…"

Siena decided **not** to dwell on the implications of that, instead heading over to Haskill in the hopes that he, however snobbish, snide, and proper he may be about it, would provide her with some useful information.

"The Madgod has given you a task. Surely someone of your… copious talent should be able to handle it," Haskill remarked, his hands clasped behind his back as he stood straight and still, perfectly in control; perfectly irritating.

"I'm sure I could handle it, I just want more information on Xedilian, since crazy over there," Siena pointed her thumb back over her shoulder at the Daedric Prince, "was so helpful."

"Ah yes, quite an amazing place really," Haskill replied, his face lighting up just a little, and the hint of a smile beginning to touch his lips. This alone astounded the Dunmer, but then he looked up as if daydreaming. "Wonderful for relieving one's tension, as you watch those troublesome adventurers suffer…" Siena gave him an incredulous look, as if daring him to say it again, and the Bretonic chamberlain looked at her for a moment. "No offense."

Siena didn't believe him.

"I'd say your next move is to get to Xedilian, and get it reactivated," Haskill continued, not caring really whether she believed him or not.

"Reactivated? What is this, some sort of Dwemer construct?" Siena asked, confused. Sheogorath had told her to get it up and running; now she's told it's already up, she just needs to reactivate it. Just what was this place, anyways?

"Yes? Ah… silly me." Haskill's hint of a smile was gone, replaced now with that irritated visage she had come to attribute to him since they first met. "The book has no pictures. Can't really expect you to read that, now can I?" Haskill sarcastically inquired with a raised eyebrow.

Once again that familiar anger she got whenever she dealt with Haskill returned, and she found herself holding back the urge to cut this man's throat only because Sheogorath was nearby, and might send her falling again. "I can **read**," she snarled, "I just haven't read it **yet.**"

"To reactivate Xedilian for my Lord's pleasure," Haskill carried on, oblivious to her snarling rebuttal. "You'll need to find three Focus Crystals and return them to their resting place. Each Crystal has a matching receptacle called a Judgment Nexus. Even you can't miss them," Haskill sighed. Siena growled at this, but her vocal outburst was ignored again.

"Without the crystals in place, the Resonator of Judgment, Xedilian's power source, cannot be restored," Haskill concluded.

"Care to share the location of this place for me, so I can actually do this?" Siena snapped, pulling the map out of her pack and shoving it at Haskill. Sighing again, the chamberlain unfolded the map he had given her, pointed to a spot on it, and then handed it back. Siena looked at the returned map, finding a dot on the peninsula of Dementia that hadn't been there before.

"You have the Attenuator, the Manual, and a map," Haskill told her, irritation still etched on his face. "I'm certainly not going to carry you there, so I suggest you get to it. My Lord Sheogorath does not like those who lollygag," Haskill paused for a moment in thought. "Or maybe he does? Bah! Just get going." He nudged his head in the direction of the doors, Siena's cue to leave.

"Place one foot in front of the other… you know how it goes," Haskill very nearly growled. Siena did growl back however.

"I know how to move you snobbish s'wit!" Siena cursed, jamming her map back into the pack without caring if it got crinkled up. "I'm just trying to keep myself from killing your annoying ass!"

"Perhaps you should go now," Sheogorath piped up, still lounging on his throne. Siena turned to look at the god, glare never leaving. "Run along. Scoot!"

That was the last straw; even if she could get further information from these two, she was no longer certain she could handle being around them. Snarling like an animal, she whirled away, marching down the nave to where her bow lay unattended. She hoisted it on her back again, not even looking back at them as she made her way up the Dementia stairs to the door.

She only stopped because of a horrid trophy that sat upon a pedestal near the exit. It was a head as big as her torso, clad in an iron mask with spikes jutting out down the middle of the face. She grimly recognized the skin tone; it was like the Gatekeeper's. He kept a replica of the Gatekeeper's head as a trophy! She knew it had to be a replica because the stench was absent, but it was nonetheless despicable.

She looked back at Sheogorath, who wasn't even paying attention to her, shook her head in disgust, and walked out. She was going to be coming from the Mania door from now on, so long as that _thing_ was up on a pedestal.

* * *

When she was outside once more, she inhaled deeply and enjoyed the heat of the afternoon sun.

"I told you that was a bad idea," said Belmyne beside her, as she descended the steps back out of the Palace. Siena looked to her side to scowl at her Dunmeri lover, garbed in his typical mage robes. "So now what's the plan, m'love?"

It was a good question; just what **did** she plan on doing? Her first attempt at revenge had nearly resulted in her death!

"I'll have to be more subtle about it, more tactful. Like an assassin." Siena surmised.

"Okay, sounds good… but how do you plan on doing that?" Belmyne asked again. Siena stopped to lean on one of the columns of the cloister, thinking.

"I'm going to restore Xedilian," she concluded, smiling at Belmyne. "Gain his trust, find out what this change is about, and destroy him when it leaves him at his weakest." Belmyne grinned back.

"Now **that** sounds like a good plan."


	24. Chapter 24: Sort of On The Road Again

Chapter 24: (Sort of) On The Road Again

If Siena was truly going to travel to this place, she needed to be prepared. She had prepared for her contracted trip to Cyrodiil a month before she was to board the vessel, as well. If it hadn't been for Daedric intervention, things probably would have gone much better.

But she had learned something, in terms of preparations, from that experience; keep cautious and expect the unexpected. **Definitely** expect the unexpected when in the Realm of a madman.

So Siena sat now in Bliss, the melodious sound of the mermaid fountain behind her as she spread the map across her lap. Before she had just skimmed over it, but now she delved fully into the landscape, investigating her location, and Xedilian's.

Sadly, it seemed like there was no straight path to Xedilian. Rather, if she took the Low Road back towards the Fringe, then took Pinnacle Road south towards Shallow Grave and Madgod's Boot (_Such lovely names for these regions and landmarks,_ she thought) she could reach Xedilian. Theoretically, it would be safer, being a paved road. Of course, the last time she took the proper road she got attacked by some vicious thing, and then kidnapped by Grummites. Knotty Bramble, that random place Sickly Bernice wanted her to go, was also on Pinnacle Road. So, she could kill two lunatic jobs with one trip… or just ignore that place. She still had that bottle, but it wasn't particularly weighing her down or anything.

The only other option seemed to be a more or less straight line of travel from Crucible to Xedilian, crossing a few small hilled islands and over bodies of water and inlets. It was likely marshy waters, since this was the lands of Dementia after all. But it was a straight path, which would likely result in a faster travel time, and Siena badly wanted to get this over and done with. Considering her experience with the roads, going off road seemed the safer option, paradoxically.

Now the problem lay in supplies. She was broke, spending her last coins in The Choosy Beggar on last night's food. That also meant she had no gold with which to learn a new spell from Earl's Mysteries. But that was probably a good thing; if she was truly going to delve more into magic, she'd have to delve into alchemy as well. She'd need a source of magicka so she could use her spells repeatedly and reliably without worrying about her handicap. And that meant equipment was needed that she couldn't afford.

But if there was a chance of hitting one of those camps, like the one where she had found her previous belt, she might find supplies. And most of the denizens she'd encountered could be handled with a good arrow shot, or a dagger well placed.

_Yeah, I could probably make it there alright!_ She reasoned, twisting herself around to grab the small Manual of Xedilian out of her pack. _I just need to figure out what to do when I get there._ She neatly folded the map and placed it back in its pocket before cracking open the Manual.

'On the subject of Xedilian's construction, Lord Sheogorath, let me begin by extending the warmest regards to you and your noble being,' began the text. _Kiss ass,_ Siena snickered, reading on.

'The construction was completed on time and well under budget as you demanded ("under pain of fun" I believe you are quoted as saying) and with only the most infinitesimal loss of life.' _What counts as infinitesimal in your books, exactly?_ Siena wondered. _And is fun really that… well, I suppose Sheogorath's sort of fun is rather painful,_ Siena thought, recalling his enjoyment of the idea of skipping rope with her intestines.

'I am proud to say that by harnessing the energy of that most unusual crystalline formation, Xedilian should maintain itself for years to come (with proper maintenance of course).' This concluded that the man must be some sort of irony-loving loon; why would it need proper maintenance if it would be able to maintain **itself**? 'At your request, I have included the full operation instructions for each section of the site. If you have any other questions, please feel free to bother me anytime (like when you originally thought of this idea in the middle of the night).' _Hope he doesn't do that to me,_ Siena smirked. This book was actually turning out to be a slightly enjoyable read.

'The heart of Xedilian is its power source, the Resonator of Judgment. By tuning this huge chunk of crystal with the Attenuator of Judgment (a "tuning fork" of sorts), we have released a wave of siren-like sound that will draw anyone from outside the Isles. Three Focus Crystals have been placed throughout the site to assist in keeping this wave of sound even and stable. This site will not function without all three Focus Crystals running in unison, so it's important to keep them clean and safe on their "cradles" (which I have called their Judgment Nexus). The Focus Crystals are irreplaceable at this time, so take proper precautions guarding the site when not in use.'

Obviously, Sheogorath had forgotten, or ignored, that little piece of advice, or else she wouldn't be sitting on the edge of a fountain reading this book. Siena hoped she'd actually be able to **find** these crystals; because from the sound of things, if she couldn't, she wouldn't be able to finish the job. The rest of the book began to explain some sort of mind-breaking torture; since the Focus Crystals were not mentioned again, Siena closed up the book and stashed it away, its current usefulness having expired.

So, her job was to not only get there, but go on a wild goose-chase searching for crystals like some ebony mine slave in Caldera, hoping they haven't all disappeared or broke into hundreds of pieces. Seemed like an unreasonable enough task.

* * *

Siena stood over the corpse of her first victim of the trip, and was trying to catch her breath. She had just been walking down the road towards the New Sheoth graveyard, heading for the bridges there to get to the first of a series of small isles on her journey, when this… **thing** attacked her.

The body she now stood over, after having wrestled with it until it was stabbed to death, was a canine. However, the poor creature had most of its skin removed, as well as the internal organs. The head was skinned straight down to the skull, leaving only jaw muscles and ears intact. The rest of the body still had lean musculature, but the abdomen had been removed, leaving several exposed ribs and evidence of sewing after gutting it out. The legs still had flesh attached, but the all the fur had been cut off. The image of that rude Orc's friendly canine in Crucible flashed into her mind, and a tear rolled down her face. Who would do this to such a nice animal? _Relmyna…_ she thought, causing anger to wash over her.

"Not even half an hour into the damn trip, and I have atrocities attacking me already!" Siena practically screamed at the sky, venting her frustration. "And on the damn road too!" Frown deepening, she looked back at the canine corpse; she could see if there might be something alchemically beneficial on this beast. After a moment, Siena decided not to try it. The beast had been desecrated enough already.

* * *

An hour and a half, and four Gnarls later, Siena found herself with one more chunk of Amber for Dumag, and new knowledge concerning the Gnarls. They were apparently weakest in their eyes and their neck, since getting an arrow shot in either location resulted in a dead Gnarl. Of course, getting such well placed shots wasn't easy.

By now the afternoon sun was beginning to beat down, and Siena was trekking up the slope of an unusually tall hill. _If the map had not felt like marking this as a small mountain, just how tall were the mountains in the mountain range it did mark down?_

It was at the top of that hill that Siena hit her first major obstacle of the trek; a gigantic obstacle. Where the map indicated the rough center of this small piece of land should be there stood a massive mushroom tree. The trunk was too close to the ground for her to just walk, or even crawl, under it, and the roots ran down the sides of the hill, blocking her path around it. Siena moved to her right, and found the tree's trunk-root was heading into the ground at a sharp angle, and the ground around it was very steep. Deciding to try out the left side instead, Siena inspected it was well. The ground was a little less steep here, dipping into a small basin before rising again on the other side. So long as she watched her footing, and found good enough handholds on the slope on the other side, she figured she could make it.

When Siena finally did manage to reach the other side, her chainmail was jammed with dirt and grass, and she had scrapes on her bare arms. She found herself on the downhill, which was pretty steep as well, a rocky outcrop the only reason she wasn't sliding down now. Below, she could see leveling ground, and a cluster of dark grey crystal spires, like the ones she'd seen in the Palace cloister.

Since that was the way she had intended to be going, she decided to check it out and managed a controlled slide down the hill, coming to a stop at more even ground. Getting up, she made her way over to the cluster to investigate it further.

She wasn't sure what purpose it served, or what exactly it was, but the central spire of crystal was massive and thick, and seemed surrounded by a close circle of other crystal spires. Surrounding the central cluster was a seemingly random assortment of other crystal spires, all leaning away from the center group. She approached the central spire, holding out her Amber gloved hand.

When she touched it, Siena gasped softly and withdrew her hand. It had been… humming. She felt a strange sort of vibration in the crystal when she touched it, as if it were a dormant beast. Doubting her own senses at the moment, she turned away to leave the crystal behind and follow her plans once more, curiosity sated for now.

She didn't get much further, however, before rain began to fall, prompting a curse from the wandering Hlaalu agent. She didn't need rain ruining her equipment, especially not right now, and though she wasn't even sure if Madness Ore could rust, she wasn't going to take the risk. Luckily, she was near a mushroom tree whose roots had lifted it high off the ground, and it could serve as a shelter for the coming storm. Siena rushed underneath the tree as the rain began to pour down harder.

Just as Siena let out a sigh, she heard the creaking of wood, and looked to her side to see a Gnarl rising off the ground, two legs propelling it towards her as the third front leg sought to stamp her lights out. Siena swiftly pulled out one of the Grummite daggers, rolling and jamming the point into one of the leg joints of the Gnarl's front leg. It gave out a creaky growl of pain, and as Siena yanked out the knife, collapsed over its weakened leg. Siena took advantage of its crippled state and cupped her other hand over the pummel of the Grummite dagger, slamming it with all her strength in the tree's carving of an eye socket. Wood splintered on impact, and the Gnarl fell back, dead.

Before she could even pull out the dagger, something hard hit her in the side, sending her sprawling onto the ground herself. A second Gnarl lumbered towards her, growling and creaking. As Siena reached for her other Grummite dagger the tree leaned back and thrust its pointed arms at her. Siena rolled to avoid it and got to her feet, the Gnarl yanking its arms from the dirt.

"Just how many of you do I have to kill-," Siena snapped, performing a spinning leap over the Gnarl's head when it tried to skewer her again, only to swivel on her heel and plant her dagger in its neck. The trunk of its neck split open, releasing the wispy green smoke that seemed to animate the trees.

"-Before you get the point; I don't like you," Siena sneered, putting the dagger back on her belt and retrieving the other one. "But at least you lot don't heal in the rain." She muttered, looking at the downpour outside of her mushroom tree shelter. It was pretty heavy, and might last a while.

"I suppose I should be thankful for that. Have to find something to be thankful for," Siena said to herself, roaming around the tree's shadow to collect any arrows that may have fallen out of the quiver during the battle. Once she had them all, she collapsed with a sigh beside one of the Gnarls, resting her head on it like any old fallen log.

"Mind if I stay for a bit and wait out the storm?" Siena asked with a grin, looking at the empty face-carving on the Gnarl, which was of course unresponsive. She patted its arm, closing her eyes for a little rest. "Didn't think so."

* * *

Siena didn't exactly rest well, since the storm kept raging around, and occasionally a gust of wind would send cold rain under the cover of the mushroom tree and over her. Siena estimated two hours to have passed, and this storm had still not let up.

Her Gnarl company, however, was changing over time. She had begun to notice roughly an hour into the storm that the Gnarl she rested on had been growing roots. They grew straight into the ground, like proper plants, and stayed there. The tree being, however, didn't move. It was as if it were returning to the soil; or healing itself, Siena really couldn't be sure.

Coupled with a diminishing patience towards the weather, and Siena knew she couldn't stand to hang around here much longer. She pulled off her fur boots and folded them as best she could before jamming them into the main pocket of her pack. They would only become soggy and heavy as she moved forward, rain or not.

Carrying on barefoot, she reached the end of this spit of land, and the beginning of the next one, estimating herself to be halfway to Xedilian now. The rain had eased a little, though she was still thoroughly soaked. She easily jumped over the thin path of water dividing the two isles, ascending the mound on the other side. Keeping herself low behind a large rock, she readied her bow and took out another Gnarl up ahead. This one had Amber in its shoulder, and Siena was very willing to relieve it of that burden.

* * *

Another Gnarl and a few more dirty climbs later, Siena found the rectangular roof of a shelter in sight. It was a campsite, just like she had anticipated. _Maybe they'll have some supplies here._

While she could just go around it, if there were supplies there, she would need them. Deciding to try her luck, she gripped her bow and softly slid down the slope to a rocky plateau overlooking the campsite. She kept herself close to the tree root that rose up beside the plateau, and got a good, clear look at the camp shelter ahead.

It was an open platform raised on stilts high above the ground, accessible by a wooden stair. She could see a chest, two bedrolls, and blood. Pools of blood, and a familiar totem pole erected at the base of the shelter. Something had happened here, and Siena couldn't be sure what. Cautiously, she knocked an arrow and pulled back the string, moving forward at a crouch to inspect the area.

She didn't get far before she saw the source of the slaughter; a Grummite was down below near the shelter, walking with its back to her and holding a dagger. Siena decided a killing shot likely wouldn't heal in the rain, so took the opportunity, embedding an arrow in the back of the amphibian's skull. It collapsed instantly.

The next one she could see clearly from her position, but she was unwilling to shoot because it was also standing in the pond next to the camp. Slinging her bow over her shoulder, she moved to the side of the plateau and slid down the hillside.

"Hey, frog-face!" She hollered when she had reached the bottom, drawing both of the Grummite daggers from her hip and spinning them deftly. The gruesome beast gave a harsh croak of surprise, turning its yellow eyes on her. "Still hungry?" She went into a defensive position as the imbecilic beast charged at her.

His thrust was easily deflected to her left, and she retaliated by slamming the dagger in her right hand deep into the Grummite's abdomen. It wheezed out a painful croak before she twisted the dagger and yanked it back out, the Grummite collapsing. She cringed at all the blood on her right hand, and headed over to the pond to clean it off.

As she was cleaning her hands, hoarse breathing and slimy steps made her pause and turn just in time to have a stone dagger plunged into her left bicep. Screaming out in a combination of pain and rage, she tackled the offending Grummite and began to pummel it, not even thinking to pick up one of her daggers on the ground nearby. It croaked and squealed and squirmed beneath her to no avail, finally falling still again when she'd managed to cave in its face.

Tears running down her face from the pain, she looked around the camp, intending to make sure everything was dead this time. She could only see two bodies, however, and that sent a chill down her spine. There was the one beneath her, and the one facedown in blood near the fire pit. The one near the shelter, the one she had shot in the back of the skull, was missing.

It was then that she realized this must have been that Grummite; that regeneration of arrow wounds, even fatal ones, could be healed by the rain. She sobbed out a curse at the Grummite, begging it to just die properly.

An idea dawned on her, and she reached with her good arm for one of her own Grummite daggers. Taking the rough, toothed edge to the creature's neck, she proceeded to grimly decapitate it, tossing the head far away once finished.

Pausing for only a moment to inspect her work, she stumbled over to the other one, which was now breathing but still unable to rise. Siena closed her eyes and grimaced as she began the dirty work, trying to ignore the resulting noises.

Her job done, Siena meandered over to the shelter, collapsing on the steps. She'd lost a good amount of blood from the wound, and her left arm burned so furiously with pain it was practically unusable. She was forced to crawl on one hand and her knees to get under the shelter and onto a bedroll, tearing it apart to get a bandage strip.

* * *

She'd resorted to the only restorative magic she knew to take care of the wound, a minor healing spell. Several repetitions stopped the bleeding and restored much of her muscle structure, but there was still an open hole in her arm that while less painful was no less of a danger to her health. She wrapped it well in strip bandages to keep it covered.

Sadly, the only thing in the chest had been gold, a pearl, and a petty soul gem, and the Grummite corpses had only gold.

With no supplies and a nasty wound to show for her efforts, Siena kept on going through the storm. She was relieved to see Pinnacle Road when she reached it, and dispatched an emaciated Hunger that was hoping to make an easy meal out of her. Reaching two rocky outcroppings flanking a stone staircase, Siena looked through the rain to see a Grummite on the stone bridge at the foot of the stairs. Steeling herself, she pulled back an arrow and fired.

Luckily, the injury to her left arm did not make archery too much of a hassle, so long as she could hoist the bow comfortably. The arrow sailed into the beast's chest, and it collapsed. Siena wasted no time in beheading the beast, tossing the head over the edge of the bridge and taking a lockpick and some gold off the corpse. She headed for the stone archway ahead, which was flanked by two braziers that suspiciously remained lit even in the rain. The door had an archway elaborately carved into it, and a pillar of vines down the center leading to the handles. Siena pulled it open, eager to get out of the storm.

When she had managed to close the door and escape the foul weather, she looked around. She was in an entry room lit by torches on either side of a gate, surrounding two more Grummite totems. The gate looked to be made of iron, and fashioned into bent bars that crossed each other in aesthetic patterns. Beside the gate was a pressure block with a despairing face carved into it, soft blue gems in place of eyes and teeth.

Siena wrung out her hair and shook herself before taking out her map, wanting to make sure this was Xedilian before she wasted her time with more Grummites. Sure enough, this was Xedilian; Grummite-infested Xedilian.

_Unless there are two elaborate ruined structures very close to each other, this is it._ She took off her quiver of arrows, removing them with one hand and dumping water out of the quiver with the other. Now mostly not soaking, she placed the arrows and quiver back. She wasn't going to bother with her boots again though; she was still too wet for them.

Pushing the sad-face block into the wall, she listened to the surprisingly soft sound of the gate rising, and headed through with an arrow ready.

_At least they aren't in the rain this time._


End file.
